House of Cards
by AnteNomad
Summary: Taelons are falling victim to a mysterious assassin who may have ties to the Resistence. Liam must work quickly to find this man before he destroys the delicate balance of power which is holding the world back from chaos. Set early S3.
1. Human Behavior

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Earth: Final Conflict is not my property; if it were, the last four seasons would never have happened. This story is completely fictional, and may contradict events witnessed on screen, but no more so than your average episode these days does anyway. No profit is made through this publication by the author, and all characters whom he did not create are someone else's intellectual property. Incidentally, Boone was the coolest guy ever, and the Mothership looked cooler when you couldn't see through it. All your base are belong to us.  
  
**Notes:** This story takes place between the third season episodes Once And Future World and Thicker Than Blood. The author wrote this during late Season 3 and early Season 4, so any information revealed late in Season 4 or during Season 5 is not included. It made sense when I wrote it._  
  
  
**Taelon Moonbase  
Thursday, 17:26 EST**  
  
The Taelon Moonbase sprawled almost completely across the dark side of the Earth's moon. At the moment, obscured from both the sun and the Earth, the only sight visible outside the wall of virtual glass lining the massive concourse was the dance of flitting energy discharges running along the contours of the Moonbase and, above that, the steady light of the stars.  
  
Ri'im, however, was more interested in the middle-aged, dark-skinned human who walked beside him. Doctor Aman Lubata, the first human scientist to be assigned to the Moonbase, was a fascinating individual. Ri'im was continually surprised by the diversity exhibited by this species, not just physically, but in terms of spirit. He often wondered how such a disorganized species could even function, much less achieve such a high level of technology. At the moment, Lebata was rattling off the advanced principles of interdimensional travel, which had taken himself decades to learn.  
  
_Quick to acquire knowledge. Necessary; minute life span. Possibly linked to substandard memory retention?  
  
Speculation. Irrelevant._  
  
...But I think we're on the right track with the nexus buildings, Lubata was saying. We simply must be sure that the junctions can handle the possibility of multiple slipstreams passing through twenty-four hours a day. If the system ever malfunctions, we should also be able to reroute any active streams to one of the other junctions to prevent loss.  
  
_Considerable expenditure of resources._ This is a most innovative concept, Ri'im mused. _Wasteful. Excessively redundant._ But interdimensional travel is most safe. I believe that these precautions are an unnecessary expenditure of time and resources.  
  
Lubata said. But humans have an expression: Better safe than sorry.'  
  
_Cultural, societal idiosyncrasy. Generalization; deduction from philosophy._ Ri'im inclined his head, attempting to mimic the human gesture of agreement. _Imitation. Necessary?_  
  
_Helpful._ "A fascinating sentiment, if I interpret these words correctly. Very well. If you believe these...precautions to be necessary."  
  
"I know for a fact that our sponsors will," Lubata assured. "American businessmen will not support anything unless they are sure it will succeed. And that they will profit from it."  
  
_Fascinating._  
  
The two reached their destination, an interdimensional portal at the end of the concourse. For a moment, Ri'im sensed an intruding presence by the portal. _Hostile? Danger?_  
  
_Inconsequential._ "I hope that, through this venture, all parties concerned may reach our goals," he said, extending his hand in the standard Taelon farewell gesture.  
  
"I don't doubt it." Mimicking the gesture, Lubata stepped into the portal. As human interfaces had not yet been installed, Ri'im commanded the device to send the scientist back to Earth. It immediately began to whine, and a pair of ethereal circles appeared at either end of the device.  
  
But it quickly became apparent that something was wrong. As the circle at the "front" of the portal slid backwards to its midpoint, it appeared to smear rather than remain definite, both rings shone more brightly than usual, and the whine increased drastically in pitch. Alarmed, Ri'im signaled the portal to deactivate, but it was too late. The second ring shot forward to meet the first, and the collision produced a blinding light that washed over the Taelon. He barely had time to issue a psychic cry of surprise before he ascended to the next plane as his body was vaporized by the explosion.  
  
  
When he arrived, he found the concourse a scene of total destruction. The virtual glass had regenerated itself, but the floor was sagging by several feet towards the end, and the portal—what was left of it—resembled a quartet of burned-down trees. The walls and floor were blackened and dead for several hundred yards, and he doubted anything would be regenerating soon. That was fine with him.  
  
Walking up to the remains of the portal, he knelt down in the center of the passenger area. Reaching into the pocket of his pocket, he placed a single pale flower on the floor of the device. Standing, he stared for a moment at the destruction caused, then strode back the way he had come.


	2. The Problem

**Doors International Office Headquarters, Washington D.C.  
Thursday, 18:24 EST**  
  
"...When complete, these portals will be able to move anyone from anywhere to anywhere around the world in a matter of minutes. Doors International: A Proud sponsor of the Fixed-Link Travel Network."  
  
Renee Palmer switched off her computer screen and turned to face the two men across her desk. "That's going to start airing this afternoon. We're estimating two more weeks to test the safety protocols, so we should be ready on schedule."  
  
"What about security?" asked Jonathan Doors, frowning as he studied the report in his hand.  
  
Beside him, Liam Kincaid dropped a small disk on Renee's desk. "Augur wrote this up. He says that it should block any attempts to tamper with the portals' programming, and log who it was and what they were trying to do." He smiled. "But he warns it's only guaranteed for twenty years or the next alien arrival, whichever comes first."  
  
Renee took the disk. "I'll have some of my people look over it, and if it checks out, we can have it integrated in time for the opening." Pocketing it, she glanced at Doors. "Don't worry, Jonathan, we won't let them anywhere near our passengers this time."  
  
"Are you sure all this is necessary?" Liam asked. "The Taelons haven't caused any incidents with the portals for over a year. Maybe they've given up."  
  
"We can't take that chance," Doors declared.  
  
"Doors International was the Portal Grid's biggest supporter," Liam persisted. "If you were this concerned about the Taelons misusing the portals, then why did you go to so much trouble promoting it?"  
  
Renee exchanged a look with Doors. "The Taelons could have found another sponsor, or taken on the entire project themselves," she said. "By agreeing to the partnership, we were ensured total access to the program."  
  
Liam shook his head. "No one else who was interested had a fraction of the influence they needed, and the Taelons wouldn't dare go ahead on their own. You ensured that there WAS a program."  
  
The three stared at each other for a moment, then a beeping erupted from Liam's Global. Drawing the device, he silently read for a moment, then closed it and returned it to his belt. I gotta go, he said. Da'an's been summoned to the Mothership.  
  
As he left, Doors fixed Renee with a concerned look. You think he'll cause any trouble?  
  
I don't think so, Renee replied. He might not understand everything, but I think he's satisfied that this isn't a serious problem.  
  
"So you don't think he needs to be told?"  
  
Not yet.  
  
Doors stood. I —  
  
Miss Palmer," Renee's secretary interrupted over the intercom, "There's a caller from you on a secure channel."  
  
Renee looked at Doors, who in turn fixed his attention on her screen. "I'll take it in here," she said.  
  
The face of a worried young man in a Volunteer's uniform appeared on her screen. "We've got trouble," he began.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership, Lunar orbit  
18:52 EST**  
  
  
  
Liam noted the shock apparent in Da'an's face. He had become accustomed to the ease at which the alien could so accurately simulate human facial expressions, even while speaking with other Taelons. This time, however, he himself was too surprised to wonder why he went to the trouble.  
  
The explosion originated at a portal station on the west side of the Moonbase, continued Agent Ronald Sandoval. With a motion of his hand, he activated a display, showing a dark crater marring the contours of the Moonbase. Three Taelons died, including a leading scientist on the Portal Grid project. We're just beginning the investigation, but it looks like the blast originated from the portal itself.  
  
Have you any idea, Da'an began, as to who has done this?  
  
Is that not obvious?  
  
Liam glanced at Zo'or. The leader of the Taelon Synod had been sitting, motionless, in seat at the center of the Mothership's bridge,' gazing out the viewport at the curve of the Earth's moon. Now, he had swiveled to face the other Taelon.  
  
"This was a totally unprovoked and pointless attack," the Taelon continued. "It could only be the Resistance."  
  
"I didn't even think the Resistance was aware of the Moonbase," Liam protested, feeling the need to reply to Zo'or's last statement. Of course, the Taelon had no idea that Liam led the Resistance, but Liam still felt a sort of personal affront.  
  
"Indeed, Zo'or," Da'an agreed. "Have you not, in fact, gone to great pains to prevent its discovery?"  
  
"Obviously," Zo'or replied calmly, "My efforts have not been successful."  
  
"With all due respect, Zo'or," Sandoval interjected, "If the Resistance knew of the Moonbase, why would they destroy an insignificant portal station and tip their hand? The facility offers far more tempting targets."  
  
"Or they could have made a public announcement," Liam offered. "If people were to find out about the Moonbase like that, it could do a lot of damage to Taelon-human relations." He was not sure what point he was trying to make, but as long as he drew attention away from the Resistance....  
  
Zo'or was not convinced. "If not the Resistance, then who? No one else has the capacity or the motive to attack a Taelon facility."  
  
"There is one possibility," Sandoval offered. The image of the Moonbase was replaced by that of a human scientist in a lab coat, with the expression that he had better places to be. "Doctor Aman Lubata is a leading human scientist on the Portal Grid project. He was using the very portal which we believe to have caused the explosion, at the very moment the blast occurred. However, he arrived at his destination safe and sound, with no apparent knowledge that anything had gone wrong."  
  
Liam did his best to hide the shock in his face. Da'an asked if the explosion might have been an accident, and Sandoval explained that any accident would surely have killed Lubata as well. The Taelons and human continued on like this, but Liam's attention was fixed on the photograph. All he could think of was that he had to get ahold of Renee or Doors as soon as possible. He forced his attention back to the other three, as it seemed they were finishing their conversation.  
  
"...This is to resolved as quickly — and quietly — as possible," Zo'or was saying.  
  
Sandoval nodded, but did not leave just yet. "One other thing, Zo'or. Something was found at the scene of the explosion, something that could have only been placed there after the blast. It is possible that the saboteur, or some accomplice, is still on the Moonbase." He then turned and headed for the exit.  
  
"Agent Sandoval," Zo'or commanded. The man stopped and looked at Zo'or expectantly. "What was this object?"  
  
"It was a flower," Sandoval replied. "I believe it was left as a sort of message to us, but I cannot imagine what it could be." Again he turned to leave.  
  
"Agent Sandoval!" Zo'or stood, an unreadable expression on his face. Again Sandoval stopped and faced the Taelon. "What kind of flower?"  
  
Sandoval furrowed his brow. "I am not a botanist," he said slowly, "but I believe it was an orchid." Once more he turned away, and this time Zo'or did not stop him. Instead, he strode over to the viewport and stared out, at nothing Liam could see.  
  
"Zo'or?" Da'an asked, with what was almost an expression of concern on his face.  
  
"Return to Earth," Zo'or commanded, not looking at the other Taelon. "We are finished here."  
  
"Zo'or —"  
  
"Now!" Zo'or said forcibly, surprising both Da'an and Liam. After a moment, Da'an turned and did as he was told, and Liam followed. It seemed they all had a great deal to think about.  
  
  
**Doors International Office Headquarters**  
  
"And you don't have any idea how this happened?" Doors demanded.  
  
"No, sir," the Volunteer protested. "All I know is that something here blew up. The Taelons are keeping the area tight as a drum; I can't get you any more."  
  
"Keep trying," Doors demanded. "Anything you find out, I want to know right away."  
  
The Volunteer nodded, and Renee cut the signal. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but merely stared at each other.  
  
"Who do you think was behind this?" Renee asked finally.  
  
Doors shook his head. "We've had a lot of trouble with extreme Resistance factions lately, but terrorism? Besides, I make sure that only my best people even KNOW about the Moonbase, for this very reason."  
  
For a moment, Renee wondered if she should say anything. She did not want to provoke a confrontation, but the situation was more than a little tenuous. "Maybe that's the problem, Jonathan," she said tentatively.  
  
He fixed her with that piercing gaze of his. "What?"  
  
"You're still thinking of them as 'your' people. Liam's headed the Resistance for almost six months now. It might be better if you started to coordinate with him."  
  
Doors remained completely expressionless on the outside, but Renee knew him well enough to tell he was seething. "If we tell Liam about the Red Letter projects, he'll go straight to Da'an. And I'm not willing to let our entire operation fall into the hands of any Taelon."  
  
"Jonathan, you're not being fair."  
  
Doors broke their gaze, stood and walked to the window. It was darkening outside, and it the lights of the city were beginning to stand out against the artificial landscape. Look, Renee, I've known him his entire life, and that's no exaggeration. He can't be trusted with Red Letter, at least not yet. Leave him with his New World Militia, but I am NOT going to put the fate of the entire Resistance in his hands. It's that simple.  
  
Renee frowned. Usually she could understand where Doors was coming from, but one issue she could never fathom was Liam Kincaid. Something about that man strongly disagreed with her old friend, but she could not imagine what it could be.  
  
"All right," she said. "If that's the way you want it." Doors nodded, and looked like he was about to speak, but she pressed on. "But what is it you're so worried about, Jonathan? The idea of Red Letter being in Liam's hands...or out of yours?"  
  
Doors merely stared at her for a moment. "You're right about one thing," he said slowly. "We should find out who knows about the Moonbase on his end. I'll leave that to you."  
  
Renee blinked. "Me?"  
  
"You have a working relationship with him. He seems to trust you."  
  
"Less than two weeks ago, I put a gun to his head! What makes you think he trusts me?"  
  
"He does, believe me. Just try." Doors picked up his suit jacket, which had been slung over the back of his chair, and headed for the door. "This is important, Renee," he added on his way out.  
  
For the first time, Renee noticed that it was after seven, and that the lights in her office had dimmed to after-hours mode. Sighing, she shut down her computer and reached for her coat.


	3. Process of Inquiry

**Taelon Moonbase  
Friday, 09:18 EST**  
  
The entire concourse was black. Black and shiny, with the texture of rubber that had flash-melted, then frozen again. Three ghostly pale splotches of an irregular shape adorned the floor, marking the dying places of three Taelons. Against one wall lay the portal itself, now nothing but four indistinct and charred columns sprouting out of the floor. All in all, the concourse looked like it had fallen victim to both a flash fire and a nuclear explosion in short order.  
  
"We haven't been able to find anything new since we got on the scene," offered the commander of the team of Volunteers who now swarmed over the scene. "Whoever did this knew exactly how not to leave any trace."  
  
"I won't accept that, Captain Kramer," Sandoval stated. "I'm not going to let a security breach of this magnitude just slip away. I want to know how this happened, and who did it, before it happens again."  
  
"I won't give up until we have something for you, Agent Sandoval," Kramer assured him. "But anyone who could pull this off in the first place must have known his stuff. It could take a while to dig anything up."  
  
"Then I suggest you get to work."  
  
Kramer nodded and headed for what used to be one of the sensor checkpoints that adorned the walls and ceiling of any Taelon structure. Sandoval strode up to the remains of the portal itself, and the single pale flower which still lay in its center. He was sure this held some sort of meaning, but he could not imagine what it could be.  
  
The most irritating part was that he believed Zo'or could. The Taelon's reaction on the Mothership seemed to indicate that he knew exactly what this sign was supposed to mean. Of course, he was not about to tell Sandoval, at least not yet.  
  
Whoever had done this was sending a message to Zo'or....  
  
"Captain Kramer," Sandoval called. When the man had rejoined him, he indicated the virtual glass wall, the only part of the concourse which looked normal. "How long after the blast was the environment restored?"  
  
Kramer thought for a moment. "The glass was regenerated in about ten minutes, but we waited another twenty to be sure it was safe."  
  
"And during that time, were you guarding the exits to ensure no one could enter or escape?"  
  
Kramer shook his head. "When the blast occurred, this entire section of the Moonbase was locked off. No one could have gotten anywhere near this area before we did. And anyone in the vicinity during the blast would have been vaporized."  
  
Sandoval indicated the flower. "So would this, Captain. Someone was here."  
  
Kramer sighed. "I already checked the transit records. Only three people left after the time of the blast, and they're all accounted for."  
  
"Then check the portals themselves," Sandoval snapped. "Count the shuttles by hand. If they both check out, then whoever did this is still here. In any case, I want him found."  
  
Kramer nodded. "I'll get right on it."  
  
As he strode off, Sandoval again directed his attention to the flower. It was becoming clear that the blast had been meant to serve no more purpose than to rattle Zo'or, to what end Sandoval did not know. But if someone had gone to this much trouble simply to get the Taelon's attention, than he could be assured a follow-up performance.  
  
Perhaps then he would get some answers.  
  
  
**Under Washington D.C.  
Friday, 13:45 EST**  
  
"Can't you see I'm busy?"  
  
Liam glanced at the young woman sitting on the lower level of the cavernous establishment. "This is important, Augur."  
  
"Take a number. See that woman in there? Her credit account's just been hacked, and she has a payment due on her house. If I don't act fast, she'll have to move out."  
  
"How charitable of you."  
  
Augur sneered. "Look, Liam, it was bad enough when you expected me to drop everything and do whatever miracle you needed—" he opened a drawer and rummaged through a collection of disks, many of which seemed too outdated to even fit in a computer. "But at least you called first," he finished, withdrawing one disk and pushing past Liam and down the stairs. When Liam tried to follow, however, he was pushed back out of sight of the woman. "Oh, no you don't," Augur chided. "You have to realize that some of my clients could get a little nervous if a Taelon Protector shows up at my doorstep."  
  
"I thought she was a victim of credit fraud?" Liam reminded him.  
  
"She is. And if she wanted to talk to the authorities, she wouldn't be here. Now stay." With this, he left again, locking the door behind him. Liam sighed and found a seat. After watching Augur and the woman for a while, his attention started to wander around the level. He was sure everything had some purpose or other, but he could not even identify what most of it was. He was saved from trying by his global beeping. Hastily, he opened it, with a sheepish glance at Augur, to see Renee's face staring at him from the tiny screen.  
  
"You got a minute, Liam?" Renee asked.  
  
"I'm...a little tied up right now," he replied quietly. "Is the line secure on your end?"  
  
"Of course." Renee's glance flicked somewhere offsrceen; she was presumably checking anyway.  
  
"Good." Liam turned so his back was to the stairs. "I think we have a problem. Did you know Dr. Lubata was assigned to the Moonbase?"  
  
Renee blinked.   
  
Apparently, he's the Taelons' lead suspect in the bombing, Liam went on.  
  
You're kidding.  
  
Liam shook his head. If he was on the Moonbase, and didn't tell either of us, what do you think he was doing?  
  
Renee was obviously concerned. You think he joined one of the splinter factions?"  
  
That doesn't seem like him.  
  
No, it doesn't. She shook herself, though barely enough to be noticeable. I'll talk to Jonathan.  
  
"All right."  
  
There was a short pause, then Renee went on. "Liam, do you have any idea who was behind this? How many people are there who even KNOW about the Moonbase?"  
  
"No one who could do this," Liam replied.  
  
"Well, we've got to find out who it was. The Taelons might not be able to blame the Resistance for this one without revealing the existence of the Moonbase, but who knows about next time? We've got enough to worry about without the possibility of another crackdown."  
  
Liam nodded. "I'm already on it."  
  
As Renee cut the signal, Liam heard Augur coming up the stairs. "All right," the other man said as Liam closed his Global. "What do you want?" He motioned Liam to follow him back down. "And you'd better be paying."  
  
"Do you know anything that could cause an ID portal to facilitate an uncontrolled energy release?"  
  
Augur froze for an instant. Someone who did not know him as well as Liam would probably not have picked it up. Liam frowned at this, but decided to see what he had to say.  
  
"A portal? Liam, there are a lot of easier ways to blow something up."  
  
"Just answer the question."  
  
Augur sighed. "_Maybe_ if the two magnetic poles were forced out of sync, then the cascade reaction that generates the slipstream could feed back outwards, with some pretty unpleasant results."  
  
"What could cause this?"  
  
"Plenty of things. Someone carrying a specific kind of magnetic device into the portal, a last-minute power failure in one of the generators, an energy discharge inside or close to the vortex...but the portal should detect any of these and shut down."  
  
"Could the safeties be overridden?"  
  
Augur fixed him with a disappointed look. "Liam, ANY computer program can be overridden. But you couldn't do it by remote; you'd have to have direct access to whatever network the portal was hooked up to."  
  
Liam nodded, then decided to satisfy another question which had entered his mind. "You seem to know a lot about this."  
  
"Renee called this morning. I've been doing some research."  
  
Liam blinked. Renee had not said anything to him. But of course, it wouldn't be the first time she had failed to be completely honest with him. "How much did she tell you?"  
  
"That someone blew up a portal on the Moonbase, and that she wanted to know how."  
  
"And you weren't going to mention this to me earlier?"  
  
"_She_ pays me," Augur said meaningfully.  
  
A little frustrated, Liam turned and took a few steps away, using the time to collect his thoughts. "I'll see if I can get you a copy of the Moonbase's security records. Sandoval's got his own people working on this, so I need to know who's behind the bombing as soon as possible. Don't worry —" he added quickly, "I'll pay you as soon as you get something." With that, he ascended the stairs toward the elevator leading up to the surface.  
  
"Renee pays me in advance," Augur muttered. Liam decided to pretend he hadn't heard.


	4. Agendas

**Taelon Mothership  
Friday, 10:47 EST**  
  
I do not believe this is a wise course of action."  
  
Zo'or glanced in the direction of the speaker. Da'an was standing by the Mothership's viewport, gazing at the distant Earth. Zo'or wondered if he would ever understand the other Taelon's obsession with that world. "And why is that, Da'an?  
  
Da'an pulled himself away from the viewport and fixed his gaze on Zo'or. "In light of the recent bombing on the Moonbase, would I believe it would be wiser to postpone the opening of the Portal Grid until this situation is resolved."  
  
"I do not agree." Zo'or rounded the chair at the center of the room and halved the distance between himself and Da'an. "If we postpone, it would show us as weak before the humans. And this I will not tolerate."  
  
"The human public is unaware of the bombing," Da'an retorted. "They would not see your actions as a sign of weakness."  
  
"Indeed," interrupted Ni'ram, the Taelon liaison to Earth's United Nations. "The humans would not know what to think of such a change in our plans. And when humans are presented with questions but not answers, they will invariably begin to speculate. And such speculation shall undoubtedly harm us."  
  
Da'an now directed his attention to his new challenger. "I find it difficult to believe that the humans' imaginings could be so undesirable as to take such a great risk."  
  
"Then you have been fortunate," Ni'ram replied calmly. "But I have learned that there is little on this world that is less desirable than a curious and speculative public." He now addressed Zo'or. "I advise against any change in our plans at this late stage."  
  
"I had no intention of making any," Zo'or assured. He directed a pointed glance at Da'an. A wave of blue washed over the other Taelon's face as he momentarily let his form slip, in what humans called a "blush." From this, it was obvious just how strongly he was opposed to the plan, as Da'an rarely ever let his form slip of late. Nonetheless, he said only, "Then I hope that Agent Sandoval can have this issue resolved by then," and left. Zo'or then returned to his seat and was prepared to rest. However, there seemed to be another order of business.  
  
"Is there something more you wish to say, Ni'ram?"  
  
The other Taelon took a step forward. "Only that I would still wish that you attend the ceremony yourself, Zo'or. As leader of the Synod, your presence would bear great meaning to the humans."  
  
Now it was Zo'or's turn to stare at the Earth, tiny in the distance. "I would not change the schedule for the Portal Grid because I will not allow humans to interfere with my plans," he said. "I do not care what is thought of me."  
  
"Humans have a tendency for generalization," Ni'ram pressed. "As the leader of the Synod, what is thought of you is also thought of our entire species. Therefore, it is best for all of us that you be seen in a favorable light. This is something you cannot accomplish from the Mothership."  
  
"It is not my concern how the humans see me or the Taelons," Zo'or retorted, glancing at Ni'ram. "That is _your_ concern, and the concern of Da'an and the other liaisons to Earth. My concern is the Synod."  
  
Ni'ram paused for a moment. One of his veins traced across his cheek in the first hints of a blush, but he maintained his composure. "I do not believe you recognize the true importance of this species, Zo'or."  
  
"This is because there is nothing to recognize. Aside from the physical similarities, our species and theirs could not be more distanced."  
  
"You are wrong, Zo'or. Humans share much more with us than physical appearance. Our two species are connected on a much more fundamental level."  
  
"I do not concern myself with philosophy," Zo'or declared. "If we are to defeat the Jaridians, then we must not allow such irrelevancies to concern us."  
  
"The Jaridians are only the immediate danger. If we squander humanity in this war, we may lose our only chance to save our species. We must not think of humans as a resource, but as another civilization, one which holds the key to preserving our own."  
  
"None of which is my concern." Zo'or returned his gaze to the viewport. "You may do what you wish, but I shall only concern myself with what _I_ believe this species is worth."  
  
Ni'ram knew he had lost, and turned to leave. However, he apparently felt the need to add one last statement. "You have had very little experience with humans at large, Zo'or. Perhaps you would refine your opinion if you were to share more time with them."  
  
Zo'or ignored the comment.  
  
  
**Taelon Moonbase**  
  
"What are you doing here, Major?"  
  
Liam did not look at Sandoval, instead continuing to examine the portal. This one was at the end of a short hallway branching off from a main corridor. He was standing more than five hundred meters under the surface of the moon, and the place was indeed beginning to seem quite claustrophobic. Whether this was simply coincidence or an actual reflection to their location, he could not tell.  
  
"Da'an is concerned that this...situation is resolved as soon as possible," Liam said. "He asked me to check on your progress." That last part was a lie, but Da'an _was_ openly concerned about the bombing, so Liam hoped his statement was at least believable.  
  
Sandoval, however, didn't even really seem to be listening to him. Taking this to mean that his story had at least not been rejected, he forged on. "Is this portal where you think the bomber came to the Moonbase?"  
  
"Came or left, we're not sure which." The new speaker was a Volunteer commander in his early- to mid-thirties. Taking a moment away from one of his technicians, he extended his hand to Liam. "Captain Scott Kramer, Taelon security."  
  
Liam took the man's hand. "Major Liam Kincaid."  
  
"You have something to report, Captain?" Sandoval asked sharply.  
  
Nodding, Kramer indicated the portal. "We've checked the database, and it records that this portal hasn't been used in the past month. _But_ when we checked the device itself, we did find a fading energy signature, indicating that it had been used sometime in the last thirty-six hours or so. Once we knew that, we made a more detailed analysis. As far as we can tell, that portal was activated sometime around sixteen forty last night."  
  
"Less than an hour before the bombing," Liam mused. "That means he was on the Moonbase for at least an hour, without being detected by any of the security safeguards. How could someone do that?"  
  
Kramer frowned. "It's not possible to avoid the safeguards for _any_ amount of time. Whoever did this must have erased the evidence of his presence afterwards. To do that, he'd have to have almost complete access to the mainframe. And that's something no human has."  
  
"You think a Taelon did this?" Liam asked skeptically.  
  
"Taelons don't kill each other," Sandoval said, though he himself didn't seem particularly convinced.  
  
Kramer was nodding, apparently deep in thought. "And even if they did, I doubt they'd leave a flower behind. I'm going to work on the assumption that whoever did this was human."  
  
After a short pause, Sandoval took up the inquiry. "You said the portal was used about an hour before the bombing. So either the bomber's still here, or he left using some other means."  
  
"We've checked all the other portals," Kramer said, "and came up empty. And all the shuttles are accounted for." He sighed. "either he's still here on the Moonbase, or he walked home."  
  
"I want all travel to and from the Moonbase discontinued immediately," Sandoval snapped. "And run a full check on all the security sensors. I want him found, and I want him found _now._"  
  
As Kramer pulled out his Global and began relaying his orders, Liam took the opportunity to pry Sandoval for anything he might know. "How could someone get onto the Moonbase _and_ booby-trap a portal without being detected?"  
  
Sandoval gave him a look that was half irritated and half...almost _disappointed,_ Liam thought. "He couldn't have done it alone. He must have help on the inside. And this must have been a well-planned bombing; it's not every day one can sabotage anything on the Moonbase."  
  
Liam could see where this was going, and tried to cut off the Resistance connection at the pass. "Yeah, but to what purpose? Bombing a portal in a facility no one's ever heard of and killing three Taelons no one knew existed in the first place? Not the best way to make a statement."  
  
"The Resistance has been trying to break the Moonbase story for over a year," Sandoval retorted. "But no. This was never meant as a message to the people of Earth."  
  
"Then who?" Liam asked.  
  
Sandoval didn't reply. But Liam could tell easily enough that he had an idea.  
  
But all in all, it seemed to Liam that the FBI agent was as in the dark as he was. And it was that that really worried him. If neither the Taelons nor the Resistance knew what was going on, than who did? How could they be doing this? And why?  
  
There was another unknown factor in play, one Liam could not begin to understand. But he had a nagging feeling that the Moonbase bombing would not be the last.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
"Wait, Ni'ram."  
  
The Taelon stopped in his path and scrutinized Da'an. He seemed quite recovered from his recent match with Zo'or.  
  
_Confusing._ Such swift emotional recovery was normal for Taelons, as any individual emotion was quickly absorbed into the Commonality. Why did he notice it?  
  
"Yes, Da'an?"  
  
_Clarke?_ Ni'ram's "protector," Damon Clarke, the Commander of Security and Interspecies Relations, was occasionally a very emotional man. Often traces of this emotion would linger in his attitude for a consider amount of time. _Customary human attitude?_  
  
"I am concerned about Zo'or," Da'an said. "He is becoming reckless in his policy, and I fear that this may reflect on the Commonality."  
  
_He._ The term humans used to describe individual Taelons. _Masculine. Sexual distinction._ Fascinating, to deal with a sapient species, so similar to the Taelons in so many ways, but with such fundamental differences as gender. The humans were a fascinating species.  
  
"Zo'or has yet to put the Commonality at serious risk," Ni'ram said. "However, I share your concern."  
  
_The Jaridians._ Of course, the Jaridians also bore sexual distinction. Had this evolutionary development occurred before or after their split with the Taelons?  
  
_Uncertain. Irrelevant._  
  
"We may not always agree, Ni'ram, but I understand that your interests are in what is best for our species. As are mine."  
  
"As are, for the greater part, Zo'or's," Ni'ram pointed out.  
  
Da'an reacted visibly to this remark. _Confused. Distraught._ As Zo'or's parent, Da'an could at times fail to think clearly regarding the Taelon. _Maternal instinct?_  
  
_Human attitude. Irrelevant._  
  
Perhaps not. Though Taelon children did belong to the Commonality rather than their parents, Ni'ram knew firsthand that the bond between parent and child could be difficult to break at times.  
  
_Possible._  
  
"Zo'or is young," Da'an said. "While his intentions are well, his efforts are often...misguided." The Taelon took a step forward. _Human paralanguage. Seriousness. Confidentiality._ "My influence in the Synod has fallen, and you are well-respected in the Commonality."  
  
_Politics._ "If you are suggesting that I attempt to place myself on the Synod, Da'an," Ni'ram said, "Then you know my response."  
  
Da'an averted his gaze for a moment. _Disappointment._ "Your presence in the Synod would serve us all," he insisted. "Your influence would be most helpful."  
  
"I disagree, Da'an. That we have a ruling body in the Synod is necessary. That the Synod have a leader is also necessary. But it is also necessary that we place as little power in this ruling body as possible."  
  
Da'an inclined his head. _Confusion._ "I do not understand."  
  
"Both human and Taelon literature is rife with narratives regarding the dangers of power. We cannot allow these dangers to consume us." He looked pointedly at Da'an, and observed an unasked question within him. "This is why I support Zo'or. As he is in power now, any attempt to challenge him would result in a dangerous and costly power struggle. It is this aspect of our society that created the Pad'ar and Pa'raj'arah, and it is an aspect I was gladdened to leave behind."  
  
"Occasionally, it is necessary to resort to such archaic philosophies to ensure our continued existence," Da'an insisted.  
  
"If, in ensuring that existence, we sacrifice that which defines us," Ni'ram said simply, "then what is the value of existence?"  
  
There was a pause, as Da'an reacted to the information. _Uncertainty. Self-assessment._ "If we continue to exist," he said slowly, "we may regain that which we sacrificed."  
  
"Perhaps," Ni'ram agreed. "But we would never be able to undo the damage that we, in such a reversion, had already done. History cannot be altered. We must, therefore, concentrate not only on the future, but also on the present."  
  
_Time._ He had an appointment with the United Nations in less than a Terran hour. He should return to earth. "I will not have any part in taking our species down that path," he concluded. "I shall serve the Commonality and our species by my continued efforts to understand and cooperate with the humans." He stepped into the portal, followed silently by Clarke. "Watch closely your own path, Da'an," he said, and activated the portal.  
  
There was the familiar whining and a bright flash, but instead of the receptor portal in the North American Embassy, he saw a psychedelic combination of blues and whites, intertwining and shifting all around him. Though his feet told him he was on solid ground, all he could see was the endless ripples and eddies of energy. Furthermore, there was a strange high-pitched whining assaulting him from every direction. Beside him, Clarke was covering his ears and grimacing.  
  
Frightened, Ni'ram reached out to the Commonality, but felt nothing. He tried again, but once more, he felt only silence. He was alone.  
  
It was just then that he realized that he was caught somehow in interdimensional space. But how was this possible? ID travel should be instantaneous to the perspective of the traveler.  
  
There was no answer. The "sound" was beyond deafening. Ni'ram felt himself being pulled and pushed in every direction. He felt, rather than heard, his protector scream. What was happening to him?  
  
He was dying.  
  
Taelons were supposed to welcome death, as the natural ascension to another plane of being. Why, then, was he so terrified?  
  
No answer. Silence. Silence amidst a deafening noise.  
  
Ni'ram felt himself coming apart, in every direction at once. He saw a blurry rendition of one of his own arms, glowing a translucent blue. He had not even realized until now that he had lost control of his appearance.  
  
Terror. Panic. Taelons were unused to such emotions. Did humans feel like this every day?  
  
Ni'ram's thoughts were now becoming blurred as well. He half-realized that he was close to death, but could no longer quite grasp what that meant. Only one though remained in the Taelon's mind.  
  
_Why?_  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership  
11:41 EST**  
  
Thirty-four minutes after Ni'ram and Clarke entered the portal and the Mothership, the portal in the North American embassy activated and deposited two bodies, a human and a Taelon. The human was deeply unconscious, and the Taelon was in Sahmbaad, a sort of near-death state. The portal malfunction had been detected on the Mothership, and an emergency medical team was present to rush the two to the nearest care facility.  
  
Silently, he deactivated the monitor. For thirty-four minutes, he had watched the two figures writhing in agony as their bodies were stretched and contorted by the slipstream. He had not expected them to be able to experience the passage of time while inside the slipstream.  
  
But then, he had not expected them to live, either.  
  
A Volunteer strolled past his alcove. He checked the projector he had set up on the floor. Satisfied that the all the Volunteer—and any other passersby—could see was an empty room, he returned his attention to the terminal.  
  
Now for the housekeeping work. Quickly, he logged out of the mainframe computer and erased all evidence of his presence from the terminal. He also made sure that his alterations to the security sensors were still in place. Finally, he checked to see that his manipulations had been incorporated successfully into the security database. Satisfied that everything was in order, he deactivated and pocketed the projector, then—making certain that there was on one in sight—strolled out of the alcove and away down the Mothership's corridor.


	5. Laying Blame

**Taelon Mothership  
Friday, 13:45 EST**  
  
Jonathan Doors had been on the Mothership a total of three times, none of which had been particularly pleasant experiences. However, he could tell instantly that this visit would likely be his worst.  
  
Zo'or was obviously very distraught when Doors was showed in. He had never seen any of the aliens truly angry, and had for a long time been uncertain if they were even capable of emotion. The image of Zo'or, hunched over by the bridge viewport, however, answered that question for him. Though his facial expression was, as always, unreadable, his very posture told him all he needed. Doors was suddenly very conscious of the two armed Volunteers standing behind him.  
  
What is it you have done, mister Doors? Zo'or demanded.  
  
Doors frowned. I don't understand.  
  
Do not toy with me, Zo'or growled. The Taelon liaison to the United Nations is close to death, and I demand to know your involvement in this affair.  
  
Outwardly, Doors was concerned at the news. Inwardly, he was shocked. An attack on a Taelon in itself would not come as much of a surprise; it would hardly be the first. But Ni'ram? That particular alien was possibly the most popular individual in the world; why would anyone want him dead?  
  
But Zo'or was unwilling to let him fully process this information. Lines of energy traced across the alien's face as he pressed on. Doors noted on some level that he had never seen Zo'or lose his composure even to this degree. This attempt on Ni'ram's life can only be the result of a coordinated Resistance act, Zo'or pressed, and you cannot deny that you are still a prominent figure in this organization. Furthermore, this incident involved the sabotage of an interdimensional portal, an industry to which Doors International has of late had a great deal of access _and_ interest. You are the ideal mastermind, Mr. Doors, and this _cannot_ be denied.  
  
I separated myself from the Resistance months ago, Doors said, very aware of the need to choose his words carefully. I make no secret of my skepticism at the Taelons' presence here, but I do not and have never supported the violent tendencies which the Resistance can, on occasion, employ. _If I did,_ he added silently, _you wouldn't still be alive._ For the briefest of moments, he toyed with the idea of saying this out loud, but Zo'or again did not give him the opportunity, even if he had really wanted to.  
  
You expect me to believe this? Zo'or had not moved an inch, reminding Doors of some animal ready to pounce. Though Doors could not imagine a Taelon performing such an action, it was still unsettling to observe.  
  
I'm sorry to hear about Ni'ram, Doors continued, but I honestly had no knowledge of this matter until just now. And I would be more than happy to offer the full services of Doors International towards finding the true killer.  
  
For a moment, Zo'or seemed openly confused. Then, he straightened, and his entire face disappeared in a blush, and energy veins appeared in his arms and legs as well. Even after the blush faded, it was several seconds before he spoke again. When he did, it was with his usual air of calm calculatedness; all traces of anger were gone. That will not be necessary, he said. But I would suggest that you shut down all of Doors International's functioning portals until this matter is resolved and the saboteur found. With that, he turned, signaling that it was time for Doors to leave. As the Volunteers led him back to his shuttle, he finally went over the situation as he knew it now.  
  
First, an explosion had killed three Taelons of relatively minor significance—the most important being a supervisor on the Portal Grid—whose deaths would likely never become public knowledge. Now, another portal had nearly claimed the life of the Taelon liaison to the UN. The only Taelon with a higher profile worldwide was Zo'or himself, and Ni'ram was much more often seen in public; he could not help but be missed. Doors had no details yet of the second incident, but it did not seem like the work of a single person; at least, not one with a clear goal. But, two separate saboteurs creating two separate acts of terrorism, both against Taelons and using ID portals, in the space of three days? No, it had to be the same person.  
  
But who could do this? Who had the power? If it had been a Resistance operation, either Doors or Renee—who often had her finger in even the radical splinter groups—would surely have heard something. And no one outside the Resistance should have possessed the knowledge to pull off two such attacks on the Taelons.  
  
Whatever was going on, Doors felt powerless in its face. And he very much hated feeling powerless.  
  
  
Zo'or sensed Doors' departure, but the human no longer concerned him. He would deal with the man, who may or may not have been telling the truth, later. Now, he needed to reflect.  
  
Ni'ram was one of his strongest supporters in the Commonality. The loss of his presence, even temporarily, meant that Zo'or's was significantly weakened. To make matters worse, Zo'or had found himself unable to distribute throughout the Commonality the anger he had felt when informed of the incident. Instead, the feeling had continued to build until he feared it would overcome him. He had only realized when he was finally able to release his feelings into the Commonality how close he had come to completely losing control. Zo'or disliked strong emotion, and his inability to prevent the feeling had left him quite distraught.  
  
And, once again, he found himself unable to tap into the Commonality.  
  
Others could access the ethereal force connecting all Taelons together at will. Some humans even had the ability. But that skill had long been denied Zo'or. He had only realized recently that this was at least in part by design.  
  
Stress was, for most Taelons, a foreign concept, as they always had the Commonality to fall back on. With Zo'or, this was not the case. In the efforts to save his species, he could feel himself slipping away from them, becoming...less Taelon. Which did nothing for his feelings of stress.  
  
A message materialized in front of him, informing him that he was being contacted. Doing all he could to calm himself, he acknowledged the signal, and the image of a Taelon, this one wearing no mask to cover his natural state, appeared hovering in front of him. If Zo'or had not already been aware of the other's identity, he could have easily have determined this from the way he held his hands tightly behind his back.  
  
Zo'or was not in the mood for pleasantries. Yes, T'than?  
  
The other Taelon cocked his head in response to the apparent hostility in Zo'or's voice. Am I correct in my knowledge that Ni'ram is now close to death?  
  
Zo'or said flatly.  
  
And at the hands of a human? Without waiting for an answer, the Taelon War Minister pressed on. How could you allow this to occur, Zo'or?  
  
As usual, T'than's attitude infuriated Zo'or. I took every precaution possible to prevent harm from coming to the Taelons on Earth.  
  
It should be obvious by now, even to you, that these precautions are not sufficient! T'than insisted. Humans have now claimed more Taelon lives than any other species save the Jaridians! When do you intend to put an end to this?  
  
My timetables are none of your concern.  
  
T'than paused for a moment. Though he made no outward indication, Zo'or knew that his remark had angered the other Taelon. On the contrary, Zo'or, he said slowly, Your timetables are very much the concern of _all_ Taelons. Especially since your ill-planned offensives have served to accelerate the Jaridians' attacks.  
  
I am doing my best to defeat the Jaridians, Zo'or snapped. A short-term intensity in hostilities is inevitable.  
  
As War Minister, T'than retorted, that is _my_ decision. You have no authority in my affairs.  
  
And you have no authority in mine.  
  
T'than paused for a moment, and Zo'or could see the other's irritation at his remark. It is my duty to the Commonality, he said slowly, to ensure that your foolhardy direction of our people does not result in our annihilation. I shall be watching your actions carefully, Zo'or, so I suggest you do the same. The image faded, leaving Zo'or alone and seething.  
  
T'than had been Zo'or's strongest opponent within the Commonality for a very long time. However, he had chosen not to challenge Zo'or for leadership of the Synod — due mostly, Zo'or believed, to Ni'ram's urging. In fact, T'than had been quiet even through Da'an's such challenge the previous year. Zo'or had been perfectly happy with this arrangement.  
  
Zo'or stove to clear his thoughts. Yes, T'than's newfound voice could be a serious danger to Zo'or, At the moment, however, there were many more immediate and pressing dangers to deal with.  
  
  
**Sibley Memorial Hospital, Washington D.C.  
13:56 EST**  
  
Ni'ram was suspended in a large tube filled with a translucent bluish fluid. The Taelon's human façade was gone, and the lines of energy intertwining across his body made reflections on the glass sides of the blue tank.' Even a human could tell by the dimness and slow progress of the energy veins across his body that the Taelon was in poor condition.  
  
Da'an knew that he was barely alive.  
  
Injury was almost a foreign concept to the Taelons, as their physiology had long since advanced beyond the point where they were susceptible to physical harm, as their bodies were primarily formed of energy. Any physical wound could usually be healed with psychic energy derived from the Commonality.  
  
However, Ni'ram was in Sahmbaad, meaning he was unable to tap into the Commonality. The energy he needed had to come from another source. And there was not a facility in the world equipped to channel the type and amount of energy needed.  
  
For a moment, Da'an considered channeling the energy from himself, but he knew that such a sharing when Ni'ram was in such a weakened state could possibly override the other's psyche, destroying the Taelon.  
  
Very rarely had a Taelon been afflicted with such a condition. But of those that had, none had survived. It was a testament to human ingenuity that Ni'ram was alive at all.  
  
Da'an turned to see his protector, Liam, staring at the neighboring tank, in which resided Commander Clarke, who had accompanied Ni'ram in the portal. Clarke's entire bone and muscle structure would have to be rebuilt, to say nothing of his mind. His chances of survival were, nonetheless, slightly better than the Taelon's.  
  
The sight reminded Da'an of the last image he had seen of Clarke's predecessor.  
  
We should return to the embassy, Liam, Da'an said.  
  
Without speaking, Liam turned and led the way out of the hospital's intensive care ward, with Da'an closely behind. Da'an knew Liam well enough to tell that the sight had angered him, although the Taelon believed that he had never actually met Clarke. He assumed the man's reaction was simply a response to the near murder of a fellow human being, something he found equally curious as, by Taelon standards, Liam was not human. Having been conceived by the last member of an alien species called the Kimera, and, though his outward appearance would suggest otherwise, he carried all the genetic material necessary to be called a member of that species.  
  
However, Da'an had been saddened to see that he did not consider himself in that manner. A few months earlier, he had asserted that, above all else, he was a human being, and clearly he wished to believe this. Not long ago, his shaqaravah—the only outward sign of his Kimera heritage—had disappeared, and Da'an could only assume that this was a result of Liam's intervention. He had never been particularly proud of the organs when they had surfaced. Da'an wondered if these simple incidents could actually be the symptoms of a much deeper self-loathing.  
  
How do the Taelons respond to attempted murder? Liam asked coldly.  
  
Such a concept is unthinkable to us, Da'an replied. That an evolved being would kill a member of his own species...it is a difficult concept to understand.  
  
Some of us are more evolved than others, Liam muttered.  
  
A swarm of reporters was waiting for them outside the hospital, each trying to get their question in for the North American Companion. Liam pushed through them towards their shuttle without saying a word. Da'an wished that for once, he could understand the man. If he was to be the future of their two species, such an understanding would be necessary.  
  
But it did not seem to be forthcoming.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
He had gotten past Mothership security, all the Volunteers, and the most advanced computer safeguards in the solar system. He had sabotaged an interdimensional portal without anyone noticing. He had escaped without leaving a trace.  
  
On the one hand, Sandoval was strongly beginning to respect whoever was behind this. On the other, he was furious. Every precaution he had placed had proven useless, and half of them had been designed for just such an eventuality. Whoever did this had known a lot more than just what he was doing.  
  
A team of Volunteers was now crawling over the damaged portal with every sort of scanner he could imagine. Sandoval could only hope that, since this portal hadn't been vaporized, there was _some_ evidence left this time.  
  
But he didn't hold out much hope.  
  
A young Volunteer lieutenant approached him cautiously. A-Agent Sandoval? she asked.  
  
Yes, what is it? he snapped.  
  
Well, sir...we checked the security database for any signs of tampering, and.... She was obviously very nervous.  
  
But Sandoval wanted answers. he pressed.  
  
Sir, there is evidence that the portal was accessed, just before the malfunction, she said haltingly. At first, we couldn't tell anything more than that, but when we checked the deep-code level.... she stopped again, inhaling deeply.  
  
What did you find, Volunteer? Sandoval snapped, now very impatient.  
  
We—we found out who accessed the portal, sir, but according to the records.... She took another deep breath. Sir, it was Zo'or.


	6. Hidden Meanings

**Taelon Mothership  
Friday, 14:32 EST**  
  
"Are you accusing me of sabotage, Agent Sandoval?"  
  
Sandoval and Zo'or were alone on the Mothership's bridge. Deceptively alone, rather, as the Taelons occupying the control pods running along the bridge walls were, as always, present. However, Sandoval had a hard time counting them as such, however, as they never seemed to react to anything going on around them. Zo'or, on the other hand, was eying Sandoval very closely.  
  
Of course not, Zo'or, Sandoval said after a short pause. I merely believed that you should be notified of this information.  
  
And why is that?  
  
Because I believe it was meant for you. Sandoval turned half away from the Taelon and began explaining his point to the wall. The information was clearly planted; there are distinctive signs of tampering. Yet, we detected no unauthorized access to the mainframe. He turned back to Zo'or. If the saboteur were skilled enough to bypass all our security protocols on both the Moonbase and the Mothership, then he should not have left any trace of tampering, either.  
  
Then you believe that this planted information was a message to me.  
  
  
  
And what do you believe this message is?  
  
Sandoval studied the Taelon, but his face was an expressionless mask. Taelons would, of course, only show expression if they wanted to, as it was quite a strain to put so much effort into their human form. Zo'or seemed to do so more than most, however. By planting evidence that you were the saboteur, he said, I believe he was stating that you are responsible for the bombing.  
  
An energy vein traced across Zo'or's face. I see. Continue your investigation.  
  
Sandoval nodded and turned to leave. He knew Zo'or well enough to tell that the Taelon was very distraught—  
  
And Agent Sandoval? Zo'or called.  
  
Sandoval turned. Yes, Zo'or?  
  
I will be attending the Portal Grid ceremony in Ni'ram's absence," the Taelon said. See that my schedule is adjusted accordingly.  
  
Trying to maintain his own emotionless mask, Sandoval nodded and left. He was confused as to Zo'or's sudden decision, but at the moment, he had to focus on the saboteur.  
  
Zo'or knew something; Sandoval was sure of that. And whoever was behind the bombings was definitely putting on a show for him. At first, Sandoval had been irritated at the fact that the Taelon was hiding potentially important information from him, but he had now began to form his own theory.  
  
Instinctively, Sandoval's eyes went to the gold wedding band on his finger. After a moment, he closed his hand and made for the nearest portal.  
  
  
**Taelon Embassy, Abijo, Nigeria  
20:45 Local (14:45 EST)**  
  
Your report, Colonel?  
  
Colonel Dele Osobato, Charge D'Affaires and Chief of Security to Dor'al, the Western African Companion, was standing at attention on the opposite side of Dor'al's meeting chamber. One of my contacts in Lagos reports he has seen the Doctor Lubata several times in the past day in the western section of the city. Though he cannot ascertain where the doctor is staying or what his purpose is in the city, it is only a matter of time.  
  
_Pointless optimism._ I am well aware of this, Colonel. But this is insufficient, as it has not been determined that we have this time of which you speak.  
  
Osobato nodded. I agree of course, he said. But this is the first evidence we have found of Lubata since his departure from this Embassy.  
  
_Manufactured victory._ Dor'al was repeatedly impressed with the humans' ability to call a perfectly insignificant achievement which should be taken for granted a success. Yet it is insufficient, for the very reasons you have mentioned. He turned and looked out over the skyscape of the city. _Mechanized. Wasteful._ When you have found Doctor Lubata, then I may share your enthusiasm.  
  
Of course, Dor'al. Do you have any special instructions for when I find the doctor?  
  
_Impatience._ If he had not yet found Lubata, why did he need to know what to do with him? Dor'al turned back to face Osobato. When you find him, you will report to me, and I will give you further instructions at that time.  
  
Osobato bowed. Yes, Dor'al.  
  
When Osobato had left, Dor'al returned his gaze to the city of Abijo. Every time he observed the city, or any human industrial accomplishment, he could only direct his thoughts in one direction.  
  
_Destructive._ The humans had no respect for the life around them. They believed that any beings which did not resemble themselves. Instead, they exploited these beings for their own shortsighted goals, and proceeded to destroy their habitats and finally wipe them out when their usefulness ended. They would destroy entire ecosystems, and only attempted to reverse the damage when a danger was presented to themselves. _Selfish._ When the Taelons had arrived, the humans were within a few years of rendering their world completely uninhabitable, and had barely even began to realize it. _Short-sighted._  
  
But perhaps what bothered Dor'al the most was how closely they could mimic the Taelons at times. They had, after all, come closer to the Taelons' level of technological advancement than any other species, and were capable of very evolved philosophical insights.  
  
Yet despite all this, the humans were unquestionably primitive. _Ruthless Confrontational. Warlike.  
  
Subversive._ Dor'al had learned a great deal from Colonel Osobato. Before the Taelons' arrival, he had been a very active member of the ruling political regime in Nigeria. In his efforts to stabilize this nation and the African continent in general, Dor'al had gained firsthand knowledge as to how this regime maintained its power. He had great difficulty believing that any civilized species could commit such atrocities among its own species. His studies into human history could produce more answers, and only showed him just how much humans would distort the truth to benefit themselves. They had no sense of community, valuing their short-term individual gain above all else. And this was not only recognized, but encouraged.  
  
Dor'al paused, and released his disgust into the Commonality. No, humans were nothing like the Taelons. Instead, they bore another resemblance, one even more disturbing.  
  
_The Jaridians...._  
  
A tone sounded, informing Dor'al that he had a visitor. He acknowledged, and a Volunteer entered, followed by a tall man in civilian clothing. Major Liam Kincaid, Protector to the North American Companion Da'an, announced the Volunteer.  
  
Very well. You are dismissed. The Volunteer nodded and left. What is your purpose here, Major?  
  
Da'an is concerned that Doctor Lubata is found as quickly as possible, Kincaid said. _Emphasis on _ He sent me to make sure there were no problems.  
  
There are not, he said simply.  
  
Da'an is very concerned that everything is running smoothly, Kincaid persisted. _Again emphasized Also emphasized Effective repetition of original statement._ Would it be possible for me to observe the search?  
  
_Desperation?_ Kincaid was definitely anxious to be included in the search. Whether or not this was a desire to follow Da'an's instructions was unclear, but Dor'al had been among humans enough to tell when they were being deceptive. Kincaid had other motives than those he was voicing, that much was certain.  
  
Your presence would not be helpful, Dor'al said. But I will refer you to my Charge D'Affaires, Colonel Osobato. He shall provide you with whatever information Da'an desires.  
  
Dor'al was opposed to the entire concept of exposing the inner workings of the Taelons' project on earth to humans who were not bound by a CVI, ensuring their loyalty.   
  
Kincaid was obviously not satisfied. But after a moment, he nodded, making the customary bow. Thank you, Dor'al. Dor'al bowed in response, adding the Taelon farewell gesture, and Kincaid made his exit. Dor'al observed that the man's hands were tightly clenched.  
  
_Subversion._ This was a new concept to the Taelons. And Dor'al was alarmed at how easily they it came to them. The most accepted explanation was that this was a side effect of the Fields and the Taelons' use of human genes to maintain themselves on the planet. But Dor'al believed that this showed that the Taelons were not as evolved over the humans as they believed they were. Therefore, the humans could easily destroy all the spiritual progress the Taelons had made since the Joining simply by their presence.  
  
He could see it happening already. The younger Taelons, such as Mit'gai and Zo'or had been the first to succumb to this devolution, but he had since observed the stain spreading through the entire Commonality, affecting all Taelons, including himself. The humans were having an effect on them, whether they knew it or not. And that effect would soon pollute the Commonality to the point where the damage could not be reversed.  
  
Dor'al activated his energy shower, hoping to escape, for a few hours at least, the fact that if the Taelons did not reach their goals soon, the humans would destroy them before the Jaridians ever got the chance.  
  
  
**Lagos, Nigeria  
23:03 Local (17:03 EST)**  
  
Walking down dark alleys, looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed, with an illegal data copy in his pocket...Lubata was a scientist, not a secret agent.  
  
It had been almost thirty years since he had left Lagos. When he had, he had sworn never to return to the political cesspool that was Nigeria. Even when things had calmed down and the Taelons had stabilized the government, he had refused to set foot in this country again.  
  
Why, then, had he insisted on holding the meeting here? The only answer he could find was that, if he was going to conduct such a morally outrageous act, he should not associate such an act with anyplace new.  
  
Lubata turned a corner and started down another deserted alleyway. Reaching the end, he looked around, but saw nobody. He was sure this was the right place.  
  
he called softly.  
  
You're three minutes late, said a voice, seemingly coming from the wall in front of him.  
  
I'm sorry, Lubata said. I couldn't synchronize my watch without being found. It must be slow.  
  
Has anyone seen you?  
  
Of course people saw me," Lubata snapped at the wall. It's a very big city.  
  
There was a short pause, then the wall in front of him suddenly blurred, rippled, and instantly became twice as far away. Standing in front of it was a blond man in his late thirties, in a black trenchcoat. He held some sort of device in his right hand, and he was standing in the center of a thin wire-frame structure that Lubata recognized immediately as one of his own short-range ID portals. At his feet was a holographic projector, which Lubata assumed had been producing the false wall.  
  
said the man, striding forward quickly and pocketing the device, which Lubata recognized as a Global. Do you have the file?  
  
Now just a minute, snapped Lubata. I'm not about to give you anything unless I get some answers. What the hell did you do to that portal on the Moonbase?  
  
There's no time —  
  
"Make the time!" Lubata lost all self-restraint. The portal I took _exploded,_ and the Taelons are blaming me! I want to know what you were doing, I want to know what you're _going_ to do, I want to know why, and I want to know _now!_  
  
Do you want to be an accomplice, Doctor? the other man asked quietly.  
  
I don't want to be in this situation at all —  
  
That's what you'll be if I tell you what you want to know, the man finished. Then his features softened, and he almost looked sympathetic. I know what it's like to be caught in the middle of something, Doctor. Don't worry, you won't be for long. He extended his hand. But I need the file.  
  
_What do I have to lose?_ With a sigh, Lubata reached into his shirt pocket and removed a disk. All the data on the Portal Grid nexus in Chicago. Portal types, locations, specifications, everything.  
  
The man took it and nodded. Thank you, Doctor.  
  
And what will to happen to me? Lubata asked.  
  
The man walked back into the center of the portal. They've probably located us by now, he said, once again producing the Global. You'll probably be found within a day. What you do then is up to you.  
  
Before Lubata could respond, the portal came to life, and the man—and his holoprojector, which he had never bothered to pick up—disappeared into the slipstream. An instant later, the portal itself glowed brightly, then crumbled to the ground as it self-destructed.  
  
Lubata glanced up. It was a new moon. Standing out against the grey globe was the tiny blue point of light that was the Taelon Mothership. For a moment, Lubata just stared at it. From this distance, it looked so innocent, so benign.  
  
To Lubata, it was the place where he would likely meet his death.  
  
Sighing, he turned and headed back down the alley.


	7. Discoveries

**North American Embassy, Washington, D.C.  
Saturday, 09:57 EST**  
  
"Anything new?"  
  
Liam shook his head at the face of Renee in his Global. "Dor'al wasn't very helpful."  
  
Renee nodded. "Well, I've got a meeting with Zo'or a bit later about the Portal Grid ceremony. I'll see what I can find out then."  
  
Liam nodded, making sure to keep a straight face. In the short time Liam had known her, Renee had assumed so many different personas that Liam was unsure which one was really her. And he was concerned that she was playing him in the same way.  
  
"I'll check back with you tonight," he said.  
  
Renee nodded, and her image disappeared from the Global. Liam returned his attention to his monitor, which displayed the information Colonel Osobato had given him. Such as it was; Liam had got the impression that neither Dor'al nor his Protector particularly trusted him. He had encountered the situation before; it was well-known that he was the only Companion protector without a CVI. But at least he had been given some details about Osobato's investigative process, information that would be very helpful to the Nigerian underground.  
  
As he sent off the file, he noted a red flag on the Omaha Resistance cell. He grimaced; that was the third one in a week, and marked nearly two dozen since the crackdown. The Resistance was coming down like a house of cards—remove one piece, the whole structure comes apart. Liam didn't know if it was the public reaction to the attempt on President Thompson's life, or Doors' own public denouncement of the Resistance, or the tightening in security after the crackdown, but he feared that the Resistance's days as an effective force were fast being numbered.  
  
"Is something wrong, Liam?" Da'an called. Looking up, he saw that the Taelon's energy shower had ended, and he was now standing, observing Liam closely.  
  
"No," Liam said, deactivating his monitor and standing. "Nothing at all."  
  
Da'an inclined his head. Liam knew the Taelon well enough to tell that he knew he was lying, but would not enquire further. "Is there something you wish to speak to me about?"  
  
Liam suppressed a grimace. Naturally, the Taelon knew him just as well. "Yes," he said. "I talked to Dor'al yesterday about his search for Lubata. He wasn't very forthcoming."  
  
"And you desire me to alter his attitude?" Da'an asked.  
  
"I need more information if I'm going to find Lubata," Liam pointed out.  
  
Da'an fixed him with a piercing gaze. "I see. And why is it so important that _you_ be the one to find Doctor Lubata?"  
  
Liam blinked. Apparently, Da'an knew Liam a little better than he had thought. "I want to get to the bottom of this," he said.  
  
Da'an walked towards the window. "Or, perhaps, Doctor Lubata was involved with the Resistance, and you are worried that Zo'or will obtain sensitive information from him." He looked pointedly at Liam.  
  
"I don't have to dignify that," Liam snapped. _Am I really that transparent?_ No, Da'an simply had an insight most did not. He thought back to their first meeting, at William Boone's funeral. The two of them had shared something there, formed a kind of connection. Liam himself didn't understand it, but it was there.  
  
"No matter," Da'an said softly. "Since Doctor Lubata has been sighted in Lagos, it is only a matter of time before we find him."  
  
"And then what, Da'an?" Liam growled, unable to contain himself. He was not only watching the Resistance fall apart, but now Da'an had even stopped trying to get in Zo'or's way. And now Lili was gone, and he had Renee to contend with. Trouble on all fronts. He was fast running out of places to turn. He felt trapped. "Do you question him? Interrogate him? Give him a CVI and have him point the way to the saboteur? What's your plan, Da'an?"  
  
  
Da'an was surprised at Liam's outburst. He had been well aware that his protector had been under an increased amount of stress the past few months, but this was his first indication of how deep these feelings ran. Liam was behaving like a trapped animal, lashing out at whoever was nearest.  
  
"I cannot speak for Zo'or," he said carefully, "But I will do everything in my power to ensure that Doctor Lubata comes to no harm." There. He had promised to intervene, but not that he would be successful.  
  
_Word games._ Of late, he always seemed to have to leave an escape route. When dealing with Liam, with Zo'or, with the human public...always now he had to watch his back, sometimes literally. His existence on Earth seemed to be little more than an attempt at survival.  
  
And it had all started with Liam. Liam's saving him from the Jaridian replicant at Boone's funeral had marked the beginning of all the subversion. He had kept secrets from the Commonality before, but in order to accommodate Liam's, he had deliberately distanced himself from the Commonality. He had realized the dangers of this early on, when a sort of signal interference had severed the psychic link entirely and forced him to revert to the Atavus state.  
  
Those people he had killed....  
  
"I don't know how to thank you," Liam muttered.  
  
_Unimpressed._ What did he want? Did he actually believe that Da'an did not wish to help? The Taelon had made tremendous sacrifices in order to keep Liam alive, occasionally jeopardizing his own position with the Taelons. Recently, he had even actively helped the Resistance against his own people. The thought of this nearly caused him to lose his facade.  
  
Were it not for these efforts, Liam might not be alive today. Yet he continued to want more, as if he had no idea how much Da'an was already risking. Someday, Da'an would be forced to choose between Liam and his own people, he knew it. And he could not possibly betray his species again.   
  
He was wondering how he could possibly explain all this to the young hybrid when a tone notified him of an incoming signal. He activated the datastream, and the image of Mit'gai, one of the Taelons' leading medical scientists on Earth, appeared in front of him.  
  
"Da'an," Mit'gai greeted. "I have information on Ni'ram and the human which may interest you."  
  
  
**Central Intelligence Agency headquarters, Washington D.C.  
11:23 EST**  
  
"Agent Sandoval?"  
  
Sandoval turned and extended his hand to the woman behind him, who took it, smiling. "I'm Assistant Director Maria Van Keller. I assume you're here about the Lagos photos?"  
  
Sandoval nodded. "Yes."  
  
"This way." Van Keller motioned to an elevator. Inside, she ran her thumb over a scanner, and the elevator began moving downward. "You realize that releasing this information to anyone, even the Taelons, would be completely improper without your FBI clearance."  
  
Sandoval nodded.  
  
"I'm trusting you to use complete discretion with everything you're about to see."  
  
The elevator stopped, depositing them at the end of a long corridor with plain white walls. Van Keller stepped out and led Sandoval to one of the doors interspaced along the walls, almost blending into them. Again, she ran her thumb over a scanner, and the door slid open. Beyond was a large white room that seemed to be overflowing with consoles, monitors, and technicians.  
  
"This is the Vault," Van Keller said, navigating through the chaos to a set of stairs, which led to a balcony connecting a ring of alcoves which resembled offices with no doors. "Our master center for satellite intelligence. Officially, none of this exists." She smiled. "Unofficially, it's been the backbone of our national defense initiatives for the last twenty years."  
  
She motioned Sandoval into one of the alcoves, in which a young man with long hair and glasses who carried a clipboard was fumbling with a coffee machine. He had the look of someone who got all his sleep in an office chair.  
  
"Agent Ronald Sandoval," Van Keller said, "Meet Keith Finn, our leading technician on the Valkyrie project."  
  
"Mm," Finn said absently, trying to fit an oversized cup into the machine.  
  
Sandoval looked at Van Keller, who smiled apologetically and took another step towards the technician. "Finn!"  
  
Finn jerked up slightly, his head colliding with a desk lamp. "Aah! What are you—" He spun around, saw Sandoval, and froze.  
  
"Doctor Finn, this is Agent Sandoval," Van Keller continued. "From the FBI...."  
  
"Oh!" Finn exclaimed, dropping the clipboard on a pile of papers and disks that supposedly hid a desk underneath and extended his hand. "Oh. Oh—hi." Still a bit shaken by the appearance of the place instead of the calm sterility he had expected, Sandoval took the hand slowly, only to have it yanked away almost immediately as Finn returned to the coffee machine. He finally managed to wedge the cup in somehow, and activate it. "You're one of the Taelons' goonies, aren't you?"  
  
"I work for Zo'or, yes," Sandoval said slowly.  
  
"I think I'll leave you two alone." Van Keller was obviously trying not to smile as she turned and left.  
  
Finn had now recovered the clipboard and was busily typing off it into the computer. Sandoval absently noted that he hadn't seen so much paper in the same place for years. "Let me guess. You want to see the Lagos file?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You got it." Finn now moved to another monitor, quickly typing in a password and fumbling with a keycard. A map of the globe appeared, with the locations of specific satellites and their orbits superimposed above. "You know, people have been going crazy over these things since the 1990s; about how they can't live with the government watching over them 24/7—rights to privacy and all that." He tapped in another command, and the satellites suddenly assumed new positions. Sandoval noted that the date had been changed to yesterday. "But I'll tell you, if someone needs to track down a stolen car, or catch some serial killer's hideout, suddenly they aren't that bad."  
  
"I was under the impression that the CIA was involved in more...international concerns," Sandoval observed.  
  
Finn chuckled. "Yeah, these babies were meant more for Saddam than Pike," he said. "Ooh!" He jumped up and wrenched his coffee cup, long full now, out of the machine. "You know, Valkyrie was originally a DoD project; we didn't get access to them till after the SI War."  
  
"Yes, this is all very fascinating," Sandoval said impatiently. "But—"  
  
"Say no more," Finn interrupted. "You're in a hurry. It's cool." Taking a sip of coffee, he tapped out another set of commands. The globe was replaced by an aerial photo of the northern African continent and most of Europe. A stream of unintelligible data ran up and down the side of the monitor. "This is Valkyrie 27," Finn was saying. "It's one of the new satellites, with all those new Taelon gadgets like sensors, bioscanners, full picture extrapolation, what have you." He highlighted the country of Nigeria, which lay in the lower left-hand corner of the screen. "We were really lucky to have one of these in position, otherwise we never would have caught this."  
  
As Sandoval watched, the image was magnified to show exclusively Nigeria, then again so that faint traces of cities and habitation were visible, then again to show what Sandoval assumed to be the city of Lagos, then again, until it was centered on a dark alleyway somewhere in the northwest part of the city.  
  
"Wait for it," Finn said, playing with a pencil.  
  
A moment later, a man appeared in the alley, and was instantly highlighted by a green square that tracked him on his path down the alley. "Can you tell who that is?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"Well, I told you about the full picture extrapolation," Finn said, poking at the keypad. Another window appeared with a model of a man in a white business suit and no jacket. His face was suspiciously blank. "This is what the computer thinks this guy looked like based on the information it's received so far. Right now, he matches most of the physical characteristics for your—" he checked his clipboard, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. "Doctor Aman Lubata. Don't worry; I'm cleared," he added quickly, likely seeing Sandoval's reaction to his use of Lubata's name.  
  
"Most?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"All the traits the computer can determine," Finn said. "Here—this part's good."  
  
The man—presumably Lubata—reached what appeared to be a dead end. Here, the camera zoomed in again, and an irregular rectangle of light began to dance in front of him. "What's that?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"The only reason the satellite flagged this area for investigation," Finn said. "It's a residual trace from an ID slipstream."  
  
"A portal?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"Portal, shuttle, it's all really about the same," Finn said dismissively. "Anyway, no one should be using any kind of ID technology around here. The satellite's programmed to seek out little oddities like that, right? So it logged the date and time and told one of us to look at it when we got around to it." He pointed at another dot at about the center of the rectangle. Oh, and that's a life-sign. Before Sandoval could comment, the technician, finishing off his coffee and balancing the mug on top of the pile of papers, added, "Here it comes."  
  
As Sandoval watched, the wall the man was facing suddenly blurred and disappeared, revealing another man standing in a wire-frame lattice of some sort.  
  
"Holographic wall," Finn narrated. "Very nice. And I'm guessing this—" he pointed at the wire-frame, "is the ID portal."  
  
Instantly, a second window appeared and an image of this man was constructed. He was again faceless, blond, slightly taller than the other, and wearing a black trenchcoat. The man looked instantly familiar to Sandoval, but he did not have nearly enough information to identify him. "Why can't you extrapolate their faces?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"Because the satellite is about a hundred fifty miles above them looking straight down," Finn replied. "And no matter what they tell you, you can't learn everything about someone from their hands."  
  
"Hands?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"Watch this."  
  
As if on cue, the first man extended his hand to the second man as if offering something, and the second man reached out to take it. Finn paused the screen, then zoomed in on the area where the two men's hands met. The image was a bit fuzzy now, but Sandoval could clearly see a disk of some kind being passed between the two men.  
  
"And if you're going to ask, no, I can't read the disk from outer space or anything like that. Just tell you that it's there." He resumed the recording and zoomed back out. The second man turned and walked away, back into the portal. After a few moments, the portal activated, and the man disappeared.  
  
"Can you trace the slipstream?" Sandoval asked as the portal dissolved itself.  
  
"Nope," said Finn. "But it couldn't have been far, according to the power spike." Suddenly, he lunged forward and froze the recording again. "There!"  
  
Sandoval looked to see that the first man—who was indeed Lubata, it seemed—was now looking straight up, right at the satellite. The full-picture extrapolation now had enough data to compose his face, but Sandoval didn't need it; his CVI alerted him instantly that this was the right man.  
  
"Could you track him after he left?" Sandoval asked.  
  
"Yep." Finn typed in another set of commands, and the image was replaced by that of a somewhat busy street in front of what appeared to be an apartment building. A square highlighted Lubata again as he made his way to the entrance. "For another twelve and a half minutes, till he went in here. The satellite passed out of range half an hour later, and it took about five minutes to get another one in place, but he definitely hasn't been outside since then."  
  
"I'll want a copy of all this," Sandoval said. "And—"  
  
Suddenly an alarm sounded, and a message appeared on Finn's computer. The technician, who had been reaching for his clipboard, spun around so quickly that he sent it, the coffee mug, and a few dozen sheets of paper crashing to the floor. "Oh, man...someone just tried to hack into the database!"  
  
Sandoval was standing over him in a second. "Did they succeed?"  
  
"I have no idea," Finn said as he worked furiously with the controls. "I don't think so, but...ah!" He flinched as the entire screen flickered out for an instant. After this, however, everything seemed to be under control. "Well, looks like he gave up," Finn said after a few moments.  
  
_Or he got what he wanted,_ thought Sandoval.  
  
"Oh, you wanted a copy, right?" Finn picked a disk off the new lair of clutter on the floor and inserted it. "You want everything I showed you, and what?"  
  
"Everything you have," Sandoval said.  
  
"Gotcha." A progress bar appeared on the monitor. "Now you know all that legal talk about how you're gonna disappear if you show this to the wrong person and everything, right?"  
  
"Yes," Sandoval said dismissively.  
  
"Then just remember to eat it when you're done." Finn tossed him the disk and started rummaging about the pile. "Is that all? I've gotta make a report...."  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
"Good morning, Zo'or." Renee made sure to smile as the alien turned and fixed her with that gaze of his. _Just act like you don't notice._ Zo'or never used that look on anyone else; why was she so special?  
  
"Miss Palmer," Zo'or said, equally flatly. Renee got the sensation that he was looking right through her.  
  
_Keep smiling._ "I'm glad we were able to meet on such short notice. I'd hate for these matters to be dealt with at the _very_ last minute."  
  
"I agree."  
  
This was wrong. Renee was already dominating the conversation. She was talking, and Zo'or was listening. This was exactly the opposite of what she wanted. "Well, I don't want to waste your time, so let's get right down to it, shall we?"  
  
Zo'or inclined his head towards her. "Certainly."  
  
Renee withdrew her Global, pretending to read information off of it. In reality, she was now recording every word that was spoken. "First of all, I've received a report that you will be attending the ceremony now?"  
  
"That is correct."  
  
Still wasn't volunteering anything. This would be harder than Renee had thought. "Are you sure you don't want to postpone the ceremony?"  
  
Zo'or was now searching her even more intently. "And why would I want to do that?"  
  
Renee made sure she was still smiling pleasantly. "Well, the ceremony is set less than a week after the accident with Ni'ram. People might be more accepting of the Portal Grid if we wait a few weeks for the shock to wear off."  
  
"I see." The Taelon closed his eyes for a moment, but dammed if Renee knew what _that_ meant. "That will not be a concern. The incident involving Ni'ram was not an accident, but the result of deliberate sabotage."  
  
Renee let the smile drop. So Zo'or had actually admitted it. Maybe she would get something out of this meeting yet. _Now you're surprised. Maybe a little stutter._ "S-sabotage?"  
  
"We are currently in the process of tracking the saboteur," Zo'or said.  
  
"But he hasn't been found yet?"  
  
Zo'or scrutinized her carefully. "No."  
  
Renee paused for a moment, acting as if she was thinking about all this for the first time. "Then are you sure we shouldn't postpone the ceremony?" Should she express concern for the Taelon? No, that would be too obvious. "If this saboteur strikes again there, it would be a media disaster."  
  
"No," Zo'or said. "I will not postpone."  
  
Renee made sure that none of her frustration showed through her mask of worry. For once, the Resistance and the Taelons would both be helped by preventing another bombing, and Zo'or was still not cooperating. "May I ask why not?" she asked.  
  
"We have already located the saboteur," Zo'or said. "It will not be long before we have apprehended him. Any delay will be pointless.  
  
_Interesting,_ Renee thought. _Either Zo'or thinks Lubata is the saboteur, or he's going to present him as the saboteur so the Taelons will have a scapegoat._ Either way, it looked like the Taelons would have Lubata before long, which meant the Resistance was running out of time if they were to find him first. "At least we should tighten security at the ceremony," she said. "Just in case. I recommend closing off the blocks surrounding the nexus building until the day of the ceremony, and doubling the guards in and around."  
  
Zo'or did not seem particularly interested in the idea, merely waving dismissively. "If you believe it to be necessary. You may coordinate with Agent Sandoval."  
  
_Sandoval,_ thought Renee. _Terrific._ "Well, other then this, I think we have everything under control," she said. Now for the strictly business, Doors executive bit. "I assume you'll simply be taking Ni'ram's place in the schedule—with your own speech, of course."  
  
"That is correct."  
  
Renee smiled pleasantly. "I look forward to hearing it."  
  
Zo'or suddenly closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if reacting to something that Renee could not hear. "If you will excuse me, Miss Palmer," he said, glancing at her.  
  
"Of course." Renee closed her Global, turned and walked out. She heard what she thought to be Agent Sandoval's voice behind her, saying something about Lubata. She thought about eavesdropping, but the Volunteers posted at the doorway changed her mind. No matter, she had gotten something. Now all she had to do was figure out what to do with it.  
  
  
**Sibley Memorial Hospital**  
  
"As far as I—" Doctor Julianne Belman threw a glance at her silent Taelon counterpart, Mit'gai, "As we can determine, both Ni'ram and Clarke were...reconstructed."  
  
Da'an cocked his head at the doctor. "Please explain."  
  
Belman opened her mouth to reply, but Mit'gai beat her, saying, "Neither Ni'ram nor the human were fully reconstructed when the portal was deactivated," he said, with a sideways glance at Belman. "Some percentage of their body mass has remained in interdimensional space. This is the cause of the difficulties."  
  
_Difficulties?_ Belman thought. Were all Taelons like this?  
  
"Will they recover?" At least she could detect some concern in Da'an's voice. Though, with the Taelons, that didn't mean much.  
  
"Clarke should regain consciousness within a couple days," Belman broke in. "He needed major reconstructive nanosurgery, but he's recovering nicely. We should be able to remove him from the blue tank in a day or so."  
  
"But Ni'ram's condition is more serious," Mit'gai said. "He has yet to awake from the Sahmbaad, and his energy may not be restored until he does. To do so prematurely could destroy his identity." Belman noted that that last comment seemed to be directed straight at Liam. _Of course. Only a human could be so ignorant...._  
  
"I was already aware of this," Da'an said. "And although I am gladdened by the news of Commander Clarke, I am curious. Is this the only reason you have summoned us?"  
  
"Actually, Da'an, we summoned you because we found something we thought you should see." Belman swept her clipboard out from under her shoulder and pulled the tiny plastic bag off of the magnetic strip, holding it out for Taelon and Protector to see. Inside was a tiny black rounded triangle, about a centimeter across. "We found this during the surgery on Clarke."  
  
Da'an was scrutinizing the bag. "What is this?"  
  
"It's a global positioning device," Liam said as Belman handed him the bag. "An implant. It's used mostly by Federal agents and soldiers and Volunteers on special operations. You stick it in your arm, then take it out when you don't need it anymore."  
  
_So that's what it is,_ Belman mused.  
  
"You found this implanted in Commander Clarke?" Da'an asked.  
  
"No," Belman replied. "It was in his skrill."  
  
Da'an tilted his head in the other direction, and Liam was motionless. It was almost funny watching the two of them sometimes.  
  
"Thank you, Doctor," Da'an said. "You will, I trust, keep us informed regarding Commander Clarke and Ni'ram?"  
  
"Certainly," said Mit'gai.  
  
Da'an nodded, then he and Liam turned and strode out, leaving Belman alone with the other Taelon.  
  
"Now, Doctor, I believe we were discussing the equipment I require?"  
  
Belman sighed and went to a computer terminal. _You_ were discussing it, Mit'gai. I told you; I'm just a doctor here, not your secretary.  
  
"If I am to restore Ni'ram, I require these devices," Mit'gai insisted. "I have observed you requisition equipment for medical use numerous times. Requisition the required equipment for me."  
  
Belman wondered what would happen if she took a swing at the Taelon. "I've requisitioned _medical_ equipment, Mit'gai. A military-grade power converter is not medical equipment. You'll have to ask someone else."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Try the front desk," Belman growled as she grabbed a printout and attached it to her clipboard. When she turned around, she saw the Taelon just leaving the IC ward. Was he actually going to the front desk? Apparently sarcasm was one code the Taelons hadn't cracked yet.  
  
Trying to keep a straight face, she made for Clarke's tank.  
  
  
**Augur's Place**  
  
The perfect sandwich. Cheese, tomatoes, more kinds of meat than the average human could count, big enough to feed a regiment of Volunteers...Augur was going to enjoy this.  
  
_Just open your mouth and close your eyes, and Mama's got a little surprise...._  
  
"Augur?"  
  
"Gah!" Just once, Augur wanted to have a little alone time. "What is it?" he snarled at the fuzzy image of his holographic "assistant." This one was modeled after his most recent—and promising—non-Resistence client.  
  
"You asked me to notify you when I had deciphered the coding on the CIA file you indicated," replied the hologram. "I have successfully eliminated your client's record from the archives, but I discovered something you might find interesting."  
  
Dropping the sandwich back onto its plate, Augur leaped up to the nearest monitor. "Let me see."  
  
An image of Northwestern Africa appeared on the screen. "This appears to be a satellite file, recorded approximately eighteen hours thirty-four minutes ago."  
  
Augur sighed. Sooner or later, he had to give this one a personality.  
  
"Visible is the city of Lagos, in Nigeria," droned the hologram, as the image enlarged to show a network of streets and alleys, finally picking a particularly backwards and deserted one and staying there.  
  
"And why would I find this interesting?" Augur asked, a little annoyed that he had been taken away from his sandwich to look at a guy in an alley on the other side of the world.  
  
"The file contains four keywords you have instructed me to look for."  
  
"Oh? Which ones?"  
  
"In order of importance: Lubata, interdimensional, Taelon, Sandoval."  
  
The recording now had Augur's full attention. As he watched the meeting between Lubata and the other man, he let out a little howl. Liam was going to love this. For a moment, he considered charging the kid.  
  
Nah, this one was free.  
  
A moment later, Liam's face was staring back at him from his Global. "What is it, Augur?" he asked, glancing around. Augur could see he was outside somewhere, with what looked like a hospital behind him. "I don't have much time."  
  
"Liam, I've hit the mother lode," Augur said. "I'm sending it to your Global now, but suffice it to say that you've got Lubata in the bag."  
  
Liam blinked. "You found him?"  
  
"You'll see when you read the file," Augur said. "Oh, and you'd better move quick, he warned. "Sandoval got a copy of this about ten minutes ago."  
  
"Right. Thanks, Augur." Liam still looked a bit confused, but he didn't say anything else before he cut the link.  
  
"Thanks are cheap," Augur muttered, and returned to his sandwich.


	8. Rescue

**Imperial Hotel, Lagos  
Saturday, 18:18 Local (12:18 EST)**  
  
Despite its impressive name, the Hotel looked so run-down that a slight breeze could knock it over.  
  
Liam had noticed a similar look throughout most of the city. Even after the Taelons' arrival, some parts of the world were barely getting by. Having rarely left the United States, had failed to notice this at first, but the few minutes he had spent in Lagos fighting off beggars had done more than enough.  
  
The inside of the hotel was no better. The reception area, about as large as the shuttle he had taken there, consisted of a bench lining one wall, on which rested an old man with a cane, and at something bearing a slight semblance to a desk on the other, occupied by a thin old woman. A pegboard was located behind the desk, with keys, alone or in pairs, hanging from numbered hooks. A doorway led to a back room behind the counter, and a set of stairs led up opposite the door. Liam had the uncanny feeling that he had just invaded someone's home by mistake.  
  
I'm looking for a Doctor Aman Lubata, he said to the woman at the desk, who merely frowned at him. He held out his Global, displaying Lubata's picture. Could you tell me where this man is?  
  
After staring at the picture for a moment, she turned and called into the back room in a language Liam was not familiar with. A much younger woman emerged and the first woman gestured to Liam, saying something else.  
  
I'm sorry, the younger woman said. My grandmother speaks very little English. May I help you?  
  
Liam nodded, indicating his Global. Yes, I'm looking for this man. Have you seen him?  
  
The young woman was silent for a moment. Why are you looking for him? she asked. Has he done something wrong?  
  
I hope not, Liam said. Well, now he knew that at least she had seen him. No one ever asked that question unless they were trying to protect someone.  
  
How did he know that...?  
  
The two women were now having a heated argument, and the grandmother seemed to be winning. Finally, the younger woman bowed her head and turned her attention back to Liam. You promise to me that you will not harm him, she demanded.  
  
I promise.  
  
After scrutinizing him for a few more moments, she removed a key from the pegboard and motioned to the stairs. Follow me.  
  
Liam followed her up the stairs to the hotel's third floor, where she went to the end of the short hallway and struggled to fit the key into a rusted old lock. When she had opened it, she turned silently and, with another pointed glance at Liam, returned down the stairs. Liam, carefully removed the lock and slowly opened the door. Doctor? Doctor Lubata?  
  
The voice came from a receded area in the wall to the left of the door, with all the looks of a kitchen. Liam rushed into the room and saw the doctor with his back to the stove, with a knife in his hand, poised to strike. But when he saw Liam, he quickly set down the knife on the counter and slumped back. Thank God, was all he said.  
  
It's good to see you, Doctor. Liam motioned to the door. Come on, I don't think we have much—  
  
A deafening roar silenced out Liam's last word. Both Liam and Lubata winced and covered their ears, but the sound died quickly, to be replaced by a low whine. The roar had been too overwhelming for Liam to identify, but Liam could easily guess.  
  
Lets get out of here! Liam said urgently.  
  
  
Sandoval eyed the hotel building as the Volunteer pilot brought the craft to its resting place on the street. Simple design, understated, not likely to draw attention. Not the best qualities in a hotel, but excellent for a hideout.  
  
I assume that we can trust your source, Colonel Osobato said from his seat beside Sandoval. This could become very embarrassing for Dor'al if Doctor Lubata is not here.  
  
We can, Sandoval said simply. Neither Osobato nor Dor'al were cleared to know that Sandoval's was in fact the CIA. However, a direct order from Zo'or had convinced the Taelon to cooperate. Sandoval had observed on many occasions, however, that Osobato seemed much more concerned with his—albeit disguised as Dor'al's—public image.  
  
The Volunteer set the shuttle down just outside the hotel, and the two Volunteers accompanying them—both implants, Sandoval noted—leaped out, scanning the area with their neutron rifles. Osobato led the way out, directing the soldiers to the entrance. Sandoval didn't really see the need for the commando bit, but this was Osobato's home turf, so he decided not to argue.  
  
In the four seconds it took for Sandoval to enter the hotel reception room, Osobato had already had one of his Volunteers disarm an old man of his cane and was speaking rapidly to a woman in a language Sandoval recognized as Yoruba, but could not translate. Whatever was being said, a younger woman did not seem happy about it, tough the second Volunteer seemed to be keeping her in line with the business end of his gun.  
  
She says that a man fitting Lubata's description is on the third floor at the end of the hall, Osobato reported to Sandoval. And that there is another man with him, who arrived a few moments ago.  
  
_The other man from the recording?_ Sandoval wondered. Take the saboteur and his accomplice in one stroke. Though he was not entirely sure who was which. he ordered to the Volunteers.  
  
  
Liam had been fairly sure that he wouldn't be able to make it out in time. There any other way out of here? he asked Lubata urgently.  
  
Only out the windows.  
  
_Out the windows._ Liam's mind suddenly flashed to the numbered pegboard with the room keys on it. Each peg had either one or two keys on it. When he had noted that the second key to Lubata's room seemed to be for use by the staff—such as it was—he assumed that the pegs with two keys were for unoccupied rooms.  
  
The rooms with no witnesses.  
  
Footsteps were pounding up the stairs. Quickly, Liam drew his pistol—he had brought a lockpick, but there wasn't time—and motioned Lubata to one of the rooms he hoped was unoccupied. He aimed and fired, and the blue-white energy blast ate through the ancient padlock and left a nasty spot on the door. Liam quickly threw the door open and hurried to the window, just as the first of the Volunteers reached the floor.  
  
  
Sandoval was right on Osobato's heels as they entered the room, stopping only to glance at the burned-out lock—he'd deal with the forensics later. Where are they? he snapped to the Volunteer who had been in the lead.  
  
It appears they went out the window, sir, replied the Volunteer. They must have got away around a corner of the building; I couldn't see them.  
  
Sandoval gritted his teeth, then snatched up his Global. Pilot, get in the air, _now,_ he ordered the shuttle pilot. Watch for anyone on the run. He snapped the Global shut before the pilot could reply.  
  
Perhaps we should split up, Osobato suggested. I will follow out the window and go one way, you return out the main entrance and take another.  
  
Fine. You— he motioned to the second Volunteer. Come with me. And he started out of the room at a run.  
  
  
So much for no witnesses.  
  
While making their escape down the streets, Liam and Lubata had been sighted by dozens of people; fortunately, none of whom seemed to care. The only real danger came from the shuttle, which was scouting out the area from the air. And Liam was willing to bet whoever was driving _would_ care.  
  
I hope you planned this a little better than it would seem, Lubata said as they ducked behind a small house to escape the shuttle's view.  
  
There wasn't time to plan, Liam replied. Sandoval was already coming when I found out where you were. The sound of the shuttle died down, leading Liam to believe it had left for the moment. Come on!  
  
They started off again, but only got around the first corner before a skrill blast put a crater in a nearby wall. Liam then took off in a run, firing backwards with his pistol every few seconds to discourage his followers.  
  
I am...not an athlete...Kincaid, Lubata gasped behind him.  
  
It's not much farther, Liam assured. The two of them were now leaving the city behind, and entering a wide open space.  
  
What are...you...doing? asked Lubata, urgently for a man who could barely breathe. They will have clear...clear view...of us here!  
  
A light breeze picked up, and Liam could see the telltale distortions ahead of him. Not for long, he said, helping Lubata along the last few yards.  
  
  
Sandoval found Osobato standing at the edge of a kind of clearing at the outskirts of town, surveying the area angrily. Where are they? he asked.  
  
I know they went out here, Osobato said. I _saw_ them. He looked at Sandoval. The shuttle is scanning the city, Agent Sandoval, but I assure you, they _are_ out here.  
  
Sandoval motioned at the expanse of plains, devoid of any concealment or people. Then _where?_  
  
Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched whine from out in the clearing, and noticed a slight ripple in the air. Horrified, he spun back to Osobato. Get the shuttle over here, _NOW!_  
  
It was too late. Another shuttle appeared out of the distorted landscape, only a few yards off the ground and heading straight at them. Sandoval barely managed to push Osobato to the ground before the craft screamed overhead. He could feel the heat on his back, and saw one of the Volunteers—who had been scouting a perimeter, thrown off his feet by the blast. Struggling back to his own feet, Sandoval reached for his Global, but saw that his shuttle had already taken the hint and moved to intercept the new one.  
  
How in hell did they acquire a Taelon shuttle? demanded Osobato.  
  
Sandoval did not answer as he watched the two shuttles, now hundreds of feet in the air. The second shuttle, at a slightly lower altitude than Sandoval's and slightly to one side, seemed to have stopped in midair. As his shuttle turned to intercept it, however, the craft sprang into action, driving straight towards it. At first, Sandoval thought he was making some kind of suicide run, but then he saw that the craft's thrusters had split open and were glowing brightly.  
  
_No...._  
  
Just as the Volunteer pilot, probably quite a bit shaken, opened fire, the new shuttle dipped down, passing bare inches, it seemed, under the first craft. Then, a pair of brilliant white rings appeared around the fore and aft of the shuttle, and it disappeared into interdimensional space with a bright flash. Seeing as how this had taken place behind Sandoval's shuttle, the pilot didn't even realize what had happened until it was too late to do anything.  
  
For a moment, Sandoval and Osobato just stood there. Then Osobato turned to the Volunteers and ordered them to start collecting evidence from the hotel and the shuttle's launch site. Sandoval thought about just how anyone could have managed to come across the equipment and information to accomplish something like this. Not to mention whoever had been flying the shuttle had been an expert pilot.  
  
Sandoval momentarily pressed his eyes tightly shut, then grabbed up his Global. He'd deal with this later. Right now, he'd have to deal with Zo'or.  
  
And the Taelon's reaction to this news would be more than enough to occupy his attention for the time being.


	9. Contentions

**Taelon Mothership  
Saturday, 12:34 EST**  
  
We will of course conduct a full forensic evaluation of everything we have available, Sandoval was saying. Zo'or was silent, watching the human carefully. But that is in Colonel Osobato's purview.  
  
Find him, Agent Sandoval, Zo'or said flatly. I will not accept failure of this magnitude again. He shut off the datastream, fortunate that his facade was not at the moment capable of transmitting his anger at the near miss.  
  
And may I assume that this news does not alter your plans at all?  
  
Zo'or did not move, choosing not to acknowledge Da'an's presence with body language. You would be correct in that assumption.  
  
Zo'or, I object to this course of action, Da'an said. From the manner of his escape, we now know that Lubata has access to Taelon technology, and it has already been proven that we cannot track this saboteur. You are placing yourself in grave danger.  
  
I will not be intimidated, Da'an, Zo'or insisted. Agent Sandoval will find the saboteur before the ceremony.  
  
You seem remarkably sure of this fact, Da'an pressed. If the saboteur proves more elusive than you expect, then shall you alter your plans accordingly? Or shall your pride then compel you to continue nonetheless? Zo'or was silent, and Da'an continued. Pride, Zo'or, is a failing which I had hoped we had evolved beyond some time ago.  
  
It is not an issue of pride, Da'an, Zo'or snapped, glaring at Da'an. The issue must be our standing with humanity. If we appear weak or frightened in their eyes, their trust and respect in us shall be lessened. This can only harm our progress on this world.  
  
Da'an scrutinized him for a moment, and Zo'or could feel his parent reaching out, probing him. You seem to know a great deal of the nature of this species, he observed. While you have avoided contact with them at every opportunity.  
  
Zo'or, unwilling to continue the psychic contact, Zo'or turned away and stared out the viewport. He did not realize at first that he was looking directly at Earth. I am uncertain what you mean.  
  
You have deliberately distanced yourself from the people of Earth since your appointment as leader of the Synod, Zo'or. Your unwillingness to attend the Portal Grid ceremony is an example of this.  
  
Then I would expect you to be pleased that I have adjusted my attitude on this matter.  
  
But you have not, Zo'or. You have only chosen to attend the ceremony so as not to risk your pride after the attempt on Ni'ram's life, not in an attempt to connect with the humans.  
  
Zo'or repeated. You use that word a great deal, Da'an. Perhaps it is not I who is fixated on the concept. His strength of will restored, he turned back to Da'an. When he led the Synod, Quo'on nearly doomed our race by focusing too much on this insignificant species and not enough on defeating the Jaridian threat. This is an error that I must now correct.  
  
Quo'on led the Synod for millennia, Da'an exclaimed, since before Ma'el came to this world!  
  
And what has occurred in these millennia? Zo'or retorted. The Taelons have fallen from a strong, civilized force to a group of frightened refugees, searching desperately for a means to simply survive.  
  
That is not the case!  
  
It is, Da'an, Zo'or insisted. And you are certainly as aware of this as I.  
  
  
Da'an paused for a moment to reassemble his thoughts. He had never sensed any such feelings in Zo'or before, and the Taelon's statement came as a complete surprise. He had of course, noted Zo'or's repeated objections to Quo'on's priorities, but this belief that he was responsible for the Taelons' plight was something Da'an had never expected.  
  
For a year now, he had maintained a weakened link to the Commonality in order to protect Liam. During that time, it was possible that Zo'or had adjusted his opinion of his former mentor.  
  
But had he weakened the link that much, that he could not sense such a change in Zo'or? He let his form slip for a moment, as he tested his link to the Commonality.  
  
_Quiet. Subdued._ The sensation he had expected did not overcome him; he was not engulfed in the collective essence of the Taelons. _Dead._ His link was not to blame, the Commonality itself was no longer there, in the sense that he remembered it.  
  
Alarmed, Da'an barely managed to assemble his facade. In only a year...This explained the erratic behavior he had observed of late. The Commonality was no longer strong enough to link all Taelons; in fact, the Taelons on the Mothership and Earth now existed in their own sort of island. Da'an could not sense anything beyond.  
  
I believe that you, too, are misplacing your priorities, Da'an said shakily. While we must fight the Jaridians, you seem to forget that they are not the source of our greatest peril.  
  
_I_ decide what is our greatest peril, Da'an, said Zo'or sharply. The Jaridians are depriving us of resources and intend to destroy us. They must be dealt with. And may I remind you that I do have the Synod's support?  
  
Da'an simply turned and left. He had to consider what he had discovered. In only a year, the Commonality had all but disappeared. Why? What had changed?  
  
How could the damage be reversed before it was too late?  
  
  
**Doors Building  
12:52 EST**  
  
Hello, Aman, Renee said cordially. How long has it been?  
  
Miss Palmer, Lubata replied simply. He, Liam, and Renee were in the belly of the Doors building, only a few floors from where Doors stored the results of its projects with the Taelons. And the slightly altered versions made for Resistance use. The offices on this floor were never used for business, had no security cameras, no guards, and were not listed on the elevator. The floor was written off on the blueprint as extraneous.  
  
In short, it was the perfect meeting place for Resistance business.  
  
Let's get right down to it, shall we? Renee crossed her fingers and leaned across the desk toward Lubata. Not as comfortable as hers, but she'd manage. You've been going behind our backs, Aman. I wont to know for how long, with who, and why.  
  
I'm beginning to wish I had been found by the Taelons, Lubata muttered.  
  
We can arrange that, Renee said. For once, she was not in the mood for games. No tell me what you've been doing.  
  
Lubata closed his eyes. About a month ago, I was contacted by someone who wanted information on interdimensional technology. He didn't give me his name, but his Taelon clearance checked out, so I gave him the data. I honestly had no idea what he was going to do with it, or that he was not legitimate.  
  
And that was it? Renee said, narrowing her eyes at the man.  
  
No. He contacted me again a couple weeks later, wanting more information. Again, he checked out, so I gave him the data. Lubata sighed. Then, the day before all this started, we actually met. He told me that he was with the Resistance, and that he knew of my connections to you. He told me that the Taelons would soon discover me, and that it was imperative that I return to Earth as soon as possible. He instructed me to gain all the information I could on the Portal Grid, return to Lagos as soon as I arrived on Earth, and told me that we would meet again in a few days.  
  
Did you? Renee asked.  
  
Yes. Yesterday. He took the information and told me that my task was complete. I was given no explanation, Miss Palmer, and I don't know who he was. I'm sorry.  
  
You were working on the Moonbase, Liam spoke up. Didn't they give you a positioning tag?  
  
Lubata reflexively fingered his right arm. Yes, they did. It's still in there, in fact.  
  
Renee quickly suppressed her first reaction to the knowledge that Lubata had a Taelon homing device in his arm. Then why didn't the Taelons use that to locate you?  
  
My...contact altered the signal so that the Taelons could not detect it, Lubata replied. Or so he told me.  
  
Renee nodded, but noticed Liam was frowning. she asked.  
  
Doctor Belman found a modified global positioning tag in Clarke's skrill, Liam explained.  
  
What-you think the _tags_ were what caused the accidents? Renee asked incredulously.  
  
It is possible, Lubata said. An interdimensional slipstream is vulnerable to certain transmission frequencies. It was one of the major concerns when the technology was introduced to Earth; we had to be certain that all the communications traffic would not interfere with the slipstreams.  
  
Renee was no scientist. All right, she said. Is there any way we can prove this?  
  
Taelon Security's already examining the tag Doctor Belman found, Liam replied. We should probably take a look at yours, too, Doctor.  
  
You'll get no argument from me, said Lubata. I never wanted the infernal device in my arm to begin with.  
  
Renee nodded. I'll have my people take a look at it, see jost how your contact modified the signal.  
  
I'll see about getting you the results for the other one, Liam offered.  
  
Hopefully, this information would allow them to find any more altered positioning tags and prevent any further bombings.  
  
Then Renee would have to decide whether this was something she truly wanted to do. After all, the saboteur had so far only targeted Taelons and their lackeys, not exactly an attitude Renee disapproved of. So long as his actions couldn't be traced back to the Resistance, she didn't see the harm.  
  
But then, if the Taelons couldn't find the saboteur, then they would undoubtedly turn on the Resistance as a scapegoat. At best, this would mean a PR disaster for the Resistance. At worst, it would mean another crackdown.  
  
In any case, she wouldn't have to make that decision just yet. she said, standing.  
  
And what is going to become of me? Lubata asked quietly.  
  
You'll be transferred to a Resistance safehouse, Renee said. We might be able to remove your identity from the Taelon database and restore you to society, but I wouldn't count on it. In any case, you should be able to live out your life in safety. She paused, letting the doctor take in this information. Or you could decide to work for us. We could certainly use your help.  
  
Lubata closed his eyes. Either way, my life as I know it is over. Sighing, he looked at Renee. May I have a little time to think about this?  
  
Of course. Renee motioned to a woman who was standing silently at the doorway. She'll take care of you.  
  
Lubata nodded and stood. When he had left, Liam looked at Renee. So what do we do now?  
  
_You always assume there's a here, Liam._ We really don't have anything more than we did yesterday, Liam. I still can't see a solution to this.  
  
But now we have a way to detect when he strikes again, Liam insisted. We might be able to stop him next time.  
  
Renee said, beginning to pace around the room. But that doesn't tell us who he is, or why he's doing this. All we know is that he's probably going to be targeting the Portal grid ceremony, and that so far the Taelons can't even detect him until a portal blows up. She looked pointedly at Liam. That's a few too many unknowns for me.  
  
Liam nodded. So we keep looking.  
  
Renee sighed. And hope we can turn something up before it's too late.  
  
  
**Western African Taelon Embassy, Abuja, Nigeria  
19:06 Local (13:06 EST)**  
  
The preliminary forensics report, Agent Sandoval. The Volunteer held out a disk. As you requested.  
  
Thank you. Sandoval took the small disk and slipped it into his Global—the temporary office he had been assigned didn't seem to have a human computer interface. Quickly, he scanned over the data, but it simply confirmed what Sandoval had known by the blast mark on the hotel lock—that either Lubata or his accomplice had been using a highly focused particle gun.  
  
Of course, this in itself raised some interesting questions. First, energy weapons in general were more than a little difficult to come by, especially outside the United States. And the degree of focusing that was apparent from the blast mark should not be available at all to civilians; the Taelons had not released the technology. Which left the pistols issued to Volunteers.  
  
Sandoval had suspected such an involvement ever since he was nearly run down by what was obviously a Taelon shuttle. He had already begun a check for all shuttles that were active during Lubata's escape, but it would take some time to finish. And now, it looked like he would have to start another check, for pilots who had been unaccounted for.  
  
Keeping in mind that it wasn't just any pilot who could pull off a maneuver such as Sandoval had seen. In fact, he had only observed such flying skill in one human.  
  
And Lili Marquette was hardly on option in this case.  
  
Deciding it was about time to call in his other source, Sandoval flipped his Global over to vidphone. A moment later, Doctor Finn's face was staring back at him. Do you have what I asked you for? Sandoval asked, double-checking that the line was secure.  
  
Sort of. Finn was looking around nervously. But I really don't like talking about this over the phone, secure line or not, you know? I mean, I can't even count how many protocols I'm breaking by even talking to you—  
  
You're not talking to me, Finn, Sandoval interrupted. This conversation never took place. Now, I don't want the details on _how_ you got the information, I only want the information, all right?  
  
Finn looked unsure, but he nodded. Yeah. All right. We got— he fumbled with something offscreen, that made a loud rattling noise. We got your two guys on the run, all right. Really exciting to watch, too. That part with the shuttle was great—  
  
  
  
Right. Well, the first guy was definitely Doc...the same guy we saw last night. The second guy, though, was new.  
  
What did he look like? Sandoval demanded.  
  
Pretty tall...least six feet, and not that heavy. Light brown hair, or dark blonde, or whatever that's called. Couldn't get a shot of his face, though.  
  
All that fit the descriptions Osobato had gained from the old woman at the hotel. Thank you, Doctor Finn.  
  
Hey, just doing my duty. Finn's image disappeared from the screen.  
  
Sandoval considered for a moment the description he had, now from two different sources. He didn't like to jump to conclusions, but the man who had been described sounded very familiar. Sandoval had long suspected Major Kincaid of having sympathies with the Resistance. And, as the one Taelon protector not to be issued a skrill, Kincaid did carry a modified energy pistol. And he _was_ an excellent shuttle pilot.  
  
And there was his tendency to always show up right before something went wrong.  
  
Sandoval shook his head. He was speculating. He could not think to accuse a Taelon protector of treason with only a vague description and a host of circumstantial evidence. He needed more.  
  
Well, he would see what the full forensics report turned up.  
  
And perhaps he would run Kincaid's picture by the two women at the hotel.  
  
Well, Taelon protector or no, Lubata's accomplice had stolen the doctor almost literally from under Sandoval's nose. If he didn't get a lead soon, _he_ would be the one to suffer in Lubata's place.  
  
  
**Taelon Moonbase  
14:20 EST**  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, his commands were accepted, and the datastream came to life. Quickly, he punched another series of commands into his Global, and the datastream acknowledged the beginning of the download.  
  
Volunteer Corporal Michael Trang had served on the Moonbase for four months, during which the high point of his duty had been escorting Zo'or to the virtual homeworld. He had very quickly become disillusioned of both the myth that the Volunteers were some ultra-secret strike team, and the myth that life as a Volunteer was in any way interesting.  
  
In the last three days, however, he had changed his mind.  
  
A warning on his Global told him that he was being subjected to another security check. Nervously, he made sure that the uplink was stable, and that none of the layers of his hacker code had been broken. Glancing nervously out of his alcove and into the corridor, he continued the download.  
  
This was not his first time hacking into the Moonbase's data network; every month, Trang picked information up from the Mainframe and passed it on to the Resistance. But this information was usually limited to security arrangements, assignment listings, and the like. This time he had been instructed to retrieve all the information he could on the Portal Grid and the bombings. This data was, of course, highly classified, but so far he hadn't had any trouble.  
  
A pair of voices appeared at the end of the hallway. Quickly, Trang ran through his options and decided that, as the download was not complete and he would likely not get anywhere if he ran, he decided to simply act normal. A Volunteer accessing a datastream was hardly reason for a security alert. As long as they didn't look too closely at what he was accessing, he should be fine.  
  
The two voices—Volunteers—passed without incident, and Trang proceeded with the download. He was very surprised by how effective the codes that the Resistance had provided him had proven. Whoever they had working for them was quite good. He just had one more file to go—  
  
The datastream suddenly snapped off, and alarms began to sound. Knowing only that he had just been found out somehow, Trang snapped his Global shut and burst out of the alcove, hoping to put as much distance between him and the datastream as possible.  
  
A distant shout from behind reminded him of the two Volunteers who had passed by a bit earlier. Before he could react, a searing heat between his shoulders immobilized him, and he crashed to the deck.  
  
As a number of armed Volunteers closed in on him, Trang decided that he liked the Moonbase a lot better when it was boring.


	10. Resignation

**North American Taelon Embassy  
Sunday, 06:00 EST**  
  
Deal with it in the morning. It always seemed like a good idea until morning came.  
  
That had been Liam's plan late last night when he had learned of Trang's capture. Not only had he woke up after four hours of sleep with no better idea of what to do or what had gone wrong, but he had been summoned by Da'an.  
  
Liam nodded to Volunteer Campbell, who was standing guard at the doorway to Da'an's office. Smiling, he nodded back. For a man assigned to work on a Sunday, he certainly seemed in a very good mood.  
  
Or perhaps it was simply that Liam was in a terrible one.  
  
Da'an was standing by the virtual glass Embassy window when Liam entered. You called for me, Da'an?  
  
The Taelon was silent. Frowning, Liam took another step forward. _Does he know?_   
  
And what is _your_ plan, Liam? Da'an demanded, turning and fixing Liam with a piercing gaze. Liam felt his muscles tighten. It would seem, the Taelon continued, stepping forward, that your desire for information did not require me to satisfy after all.  
  
Liam closed his eyes. So Da'an knew. He had expected that the Taelon would be able to link him to Trang, but had hoped to spend the weekend figuring out a plan for dealing with the matter.  
  
I don't know what you're talking about, he said, looking away. He knew the instant the words were out of his mouth that Da'an would never believe him.  
  
Your operative on the Moonbase has been discovered, Liam. As you are certainly aware. He has already admitted his connection to the Resistance; you shall gain nothing from further attempts at deception.  
  
So they had already forced a confession out of him. This after having him for less than a day, Liam mused. However did you manage that?  
  
Do not attempt to confuse the subject, Liam, Da'an warned. I could in turn ask you how the Resistance managed the feat of inserting an operative into one of our highest-security facilities. Da'an was now circling him. One would think it impossible, without assistance.  
  
What are you accusing me of, Da'an?  
  
I am accusing you of using your influence as my Protector to further your Resistance goals, Da'an said forcefully. This is treason!  
  
Which never bothered you when it was Zo'or who got the sour end of the deal, Liam snapped. You've known where my loyalties lie for nearly a year—why did you wait until now to speak up?  
  
Because until now, you have not threatened to endanger my people's very existence, Da'an returned. You surely know how vital it is that we remain on this planet—  
  
As a matter of fact, no, I don't, Liam retorted, facing Da'an again. Because that is the one thing you've never felt it necessary to tell me.  
  
_A war of genetic assimilation—_  
  
Liam shook the voice away.  
  
And what would you do with that knowledge, Liam? Da'an asked. Do you now consider yourself the sole guardian of humanity, that my plans must be subject to your approval before they go forward?  
  
I'd be happy if you asked _anybody_ for approval, Liam retorted, or at least considered what your plans will do to humanity.  
  
So you take it upon yourself to make that determination.  
  
You're damn right I do, Liam growled.  
  
Da'an watched him silently for a moment, which gave Liam time to think about what he had just said. He had just told Da'an that he took it upon himself to determine the best interests of an entire species. What right did he have to take on such authority? What made him think he knew what was best any more than Da'an?  
  
Who else was going to do it?  
  
You should know, Da'an said slowly, that I shall always act in the best interests of my people.  
  
As will I, Liam replied simply, drawing another gaze from the Taelon.  
  
_I was the last of my kind. I suffered from a biological imperative—_  
  
Again, Liam dismissed the voice.  
  
After another moment, Da'an broke his gaze. he said. Commander Clarke has awakened.  
  
  
**Sibley Memorial Hospital  
06:13**  
  
Clarke was sitting half-up in bed, reading an electronic slate, just as he had been for the last hour. He had been unconscious for only a little over a day, but already he had an entirely new queue of reports to read. Of course, Doctor Belman had told him to take it easy, but he _did_ have a job to do.  
  
No progress in finding the saboteur. Failed attempt to recover Doctor Lubata in Lagos. Zo'or to attend Portal Grid ceremony. Ni'ram in a and close to death. Resistance operative discovered on the Moonbase. Official and unofficial records were loaded with reports, all seeming to tie into one saboteur. Clarke couldn't remember the last time one individual had caused so much havoc.  
  
_Ha'gel,_ his CVI offered helpfully.  
  
The door opened, and doctor Belman poked her head in. Damon, you think you're up to a couple visitors? she asked.  
  
Clarke set the slate down on the tray, which had been rolled up to his bedside. All right.  
  
Belman nodded, and motioned to someone outside. A moment later, a familiar form entered the room.  
  
Clarke nodded at Kincaid, but sat bolt upright when he saw the Major's companion.   
  
Easy, Damon, Belman cautioned, stepping forward and forcing Clarke back down.  
  
My apologies if my appearance has caused you alarm, Da'an said.  
  
No, Da'an, of course not. Clarke placed the slate on tray beside the bed. I was just a bit surprised.  
  
Kincaid stepped forward. Commander, I need to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.  
  
Anything I can do to help, Clarke said, ignoring a voice in the back of his head telling him that it was _his_ job to be asking questions.  
  
When you were on the Mothership, what were you doing?  
  
Delivering a report on Resistance activity to Agent Sandoval. He insisted I deliver it myself.  
  
Did you meet anyone else?  
  
Only Ni'ram.  
  
Kincaid frowned. Had he been expecting something different? What is it, Major?  
  
Doctor Belman found a modified global positioning device in your skrill. We were thinking it was what threw off the portal.  
  
_The doctor looked at him with an unreadable expression. Any discomfort?  
  
Clarke looked down at his skrill. Not since you people inserted the thing.  
  
Itching? Rashes?  
  
  
  
Dizziness? Nausea?  
  
Clarke winced as the doctor touched a device he didn't recognize to his skrill. What the hell was that?  
  
You could feel that?  
  
Clarke nodded. Yes. What the hell was it?  
  
It's unusual for the host to actually sense what the skrill is feeling, he said, frowning. Nonetheless, he put the tool away without seeming to check anything. That should do it, Commander."_  
  
Clarke winced, pressing his hand to his temple. Damon, are you all right?  
  
My CVI, Clarke said. It hurts sometimes when I use it. He then frowned, considering what he had just remembered. That device the doctor had used did not look like any kind of medical instrument he had seen. And he had never seen that man again. But I think I might have something for you, Major.  
  
  
The implant described the experience he had recalled and agreed to provide a detailed description of the who he had met with. Then he, Da'an, and Belman discussed when he would be ready to return to his duties.  
  
Mit'gai paid little attention to any of this. He understood that the matters being discussed were important enough that he should not interrupt, but none of them concerned him directly. At the moment, all that did was the well-being of Ni'ram.  
  
Immediately after Da'an and Kincaid had left, he made his way into the room. Commander, I must speak with you.  
  
Belman exclaimed.  
  
This is a matter of importance, doctor, Mit'gai persisted.  
  
Belman stepped up almost nose-to-nose with the Taelon. Now listen, Mit'gai, she whispered angrily, we talked about this, and I said it was too dangerous.  
  
Fortunately for Ni'ram, Mit'gai retorted, It is not _your_ consent I require. With that, he pushed past the doctor and focused his attention on the Implant. Ni'ram is in a state of deep Sahmbaad, and is in danger of death.  
  
I know. Doctor Belman told me.  
  
I see. And have you also been informed that I have devised a means to treat him?  
  
No, I haven't.  
  
_Understandable._ Belman, being opposed to the idea, would make sure that Clarke not even be informed of the possibility. Understandable. To save Ni'ram, his energy must be replenished. Unfortunately, he is incapable of this while in the Sahmbaad. The energy cannot be provided from an outside source for the same reason; if he is infused with energy in such a manner, his own distinctive pattern would be lost. Were humans capable of understanding this?  
  
Clarke nodded. I see.  
  
Apparently so. Normally, a Taelon in this condition would certainly die. However, I believe that you may have provided an option. He could sense Belman glaring at him. Due to the fluctuations in the slipstream, a portion of Ni'ram's genetic material now exists within you. As your skrill possesses the ability to store and release large amounts of energy, I wish to attempt to transfer the energy Ni'ram needs from you.  
  
Now, Belman stepped forward. Damon, nothing like this has ever been attempted before; I don't know what could happen if you decide to do this. But it's a strong possibility that the transfer could kill you.  
  
There is indeed a danger, Mit'gai conceded, But your CVI should allow you to control the release of energy; the risk is not as extreme as the doctor believes.  
  
Damon, you're still recovering from a very dangerous experience, Belman pressed. You're nowhere near healed, and this procedure would be dangerous to you even if you were. I don't recommend this.  
  
Mit'gai simply waited. He had presented his plan, and no loyal Taelon protector should even consider refusing. Although he still wished that the discussion had not been made to remove the motivational imperative from the third-generation CVIs—that certainty about the implants had been very comforting.  
  
If I don't agree, Clarke said slowly, then Ni'ram dies?  
  
  
  
The human exhaled loudly. _Sigh. Human paralanguage. Resignation._ All right, he said. I'll do it.


	11. Evidence

**Doors building  
07:45 EST**  
  
Well, thank you for your time, Miss Palmer.  
  
Renee took the middle-aged man's hand, smiling pleasantly. Not at all, Mr. Hopson. Second Chances has some wonderful potential; I could hardly afford _not_ to make this agreement.  
  
I'm glad you feel that way, Hopson replied. I'll have my people get the paperwork back to you as soon as they can.  
  
Renee let her smile fade as the man left. She had justy made a deal with a company that had used its technology to implant people with false memories—the worst kind of violation Renee could think of. While she had certainly been truthful, in that she could not allow the company to receive its support directly from the Taelons, she doubted Jonathan would be happy with the program restarting at all. He certainly hadn't welcomed the concept when Hopson had requested a meeting.  
  
At least this time, Second Chances would be connected to Doors International rather than the Taelons.  
  
This train of thought was interrupted by the hissing of her office doors swinging open, Renee looked up to see a very unhappy Liam Kincaid—Liam, she corrected herself—stride into the room.  
  
What the hell do you think you're doing? he demanded.  
  
Renee studied him. Right now, I'm getting ready for a meeting. Don't you ever knock?  
  
Would you have any idea how our operative on the Moonbase got captured— he brandished a Global in front of her, with _top-level restricted data files?_  
  
Jonathan wanted more information on the Taelons' Portal Grid plans, Renee said carefully. Liam seemed to be in one of his worse moods. I agreed.  
  
Well, I hope you got what you needed, Liam growled, because I don't think we'll be getting anything else for a while. Do you enjoy ignoring my authority as Resistance leader? Is this some kind of joke to you?  
  
Calm down, Liam.  
  
Liam didn't seem to hear her. Da'an blames me for this, did you know that? And who knows _what_ Zo'or did to get Trang to confess. When are you going to realize you're not just affecting yourself here, Renee.  
  
Oh, don't you _dare,_ Liam. Renee desperately wanted to tell the hybrid off, but had to keep in mind just how much she was supposed to know. You've been with the Resistance for what? A year? I've been a member since the beginning. _Day one._ You think I signed on why? Because I thought it might be fun? Standing, she fixed Liam with an icy glare. You have no right to question _my_ loyalty, Liam. _I_ don't run to the nearest Taelon whenever something goes wrong.  
  
For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Renee knew full well that she was hardly without sin, but Jonathan had told her to keep an arm's length between Liam and _their_ projects, and that was exactly what she was going to do. This would probably be better if she kept him an arm's length from _her_ as well.  
  
Then maybe _you_ can get us another man on the moon, Liam said, and strode out of the office.  
  
Again, Renee leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The Resistance had never been particularly enjoyable, but lately, it had been downright dreadful. Renee didn't know which she hated more —the kind of person she was becoming, or how easily she could assume the role.  
  
Miss Palmer?  
  
Renee sighed. Yes, Candace?  
  
Mr. Taylor is here, about the JackPatches. Are you busy?  
  
_Five minutes. Can't I take five minutes...?_ she said, straightening up her desk. Send him in.  
  
  
**Lagos, Nigeria  
14:21 Local (08:21 EST)**  
  
This time, Sandoval's shuttle had landed outside of Lagos, near where the shuttle which had facilitated Lubata's escape had been hidden. This was due to the fact that the craft also carried a host of forensics investigators from the Abuja office. Shedding his coat in the shuttle's seat, Sandoval instructed the pilot to wait for him, and headed off into the city.  
  
Kincaid had checked out of the North American embassy at 11:46 the previous day. A report was filed that a shuttle had been taken out for testing on its ID drive about three minutes later, but there was no mention of the operator. The shuttle was at the moment unassigned, so any of the four Volunteer pilots could have flown the craft as easily as Kincaid.  
  
And that was assuming the shuttle Sandoval had come from the North American embassy. Since portal travel had been discontinued, shuttles had become the centerpiece of Taelon and Protector transportation; more than two dozen craft had been operating at the time of Lubata's escape.  
  
But something was pointing Sandoval towards Kincaid on this one.  
  
_Sandoval glared at Kincaid as he picked himself out of the snow. Debris from the destroyed shuttle was still raining down a short distance away. What amazes me, Major, is how you always seem to have an explanation for everything. Especially when something goes wrong."_  
  
The Imperial Hotel looked none the worse for wear, though it was a serious question as to whether it even _could_ look any worse. Entering the building, it seemed to Sandoval that no one had even moved since yesterday. The old man with the cane was still on the bench, and the two woman were still behind the counter, exchanging heated words in Yoruba.  
  
Excuse me, Sandoval called. The two women turned and looked at him, slightly annoyed. I'd appreciate your help in something.  
  
This is a bad time, said the younger woman. Please, if you could come back later?  
  
I'll only be a moment. Sandoval held out his Global, showing them a picture of Major Kincaid. I was wondering, have either of you seen this man before?  
  
Immediately, the older woman pointed at the Global and said something excitedly. The younger woman replied sharply, which led to another heated exchange. When it was over, the younger woman, looking slightly ashamed, nodded to Sandoval. He came here yesterday, not long before you did. We have not seen him leave.  
  
Thank you. Sandoval closed his Global and returned it to his belt as he left. As he returned to the shuttle, Sandoval was surprised to realize just how much this news _didn't_ surprise him.  
  
When he was at the edge of town, Sandoval's Global beeped. Yes, Captain, he said, activating the device.  
  
I've found something, Kramer said simply.  
  
  
**Taelon Moonbase  
12:27 EST**  
  
We've been running a full manual search of every portal on the base, Kramer said as he led Sandoval through the corridor. The first time, we didn't come up with anything, no anomalous power spikes, unexplained activations, nothing. Then, we thought to check the portal uses that _were_ authorized, thinking our man might have used one of those. He sighed. Again, we got nothing. We had full documentation on everyone who used the portals, and every one has an alibi for the second bombing. So, if we're assuming this was a one-man show, they weren't it.  
  
I'd like their names, in any case, Sandoval said.  
  
Kramer nodded, handing him a disk. That's got their names and all the evidence we gathered on them that makes me think they aren't suspect.  
  
Sandoval nodded, pocketing the disk. Is it possible the saboteur erased his record from the computer?  
  
That was my thought, Kramer agreed. So, I had all the portals run over with a forensic scanner. He directed Sandoval through a doorway. And _that's_ when we found something.  
  
Beyond the doorway was a cavernous room that served as a sort of Taelon storage area. Containers of all sizes and shapes were lined up along the floor, whose purpose Kramer couldn't guess at. At the center of the room sat a massive ID portal.  
  
This portal is used to move large equipment and supplies, Kramer narrated. On Friday morning, at six fifteen, it was used to deliver a shipment of industrial supplies to Earth. But— he slipped between two particularly large containers, when we scanned the floor, we found evidence of human genetic material. And that should _not_ have been part of the cargo.  
  
A team of Volunteers was crawling over this portal as well, as became apparent when Kramer and Sandoval rounded the last of the containers.  
  
Do you know _whose_ genetic material it was, Captain? Sandoval asked.  
  
We're running an analysis now, Kramer replied, opening a freezer container and removing a small plastic bag, which he offered to Sandoval. I had another sample prepared, if you're interested.  
  
Sandoval took the bag. Do you know where the portal's destination was?  
  
Kramer nodded.   
  
  
**Hansen International Freight Yard, Chicago  
11:39 Local (12:39 EST)**  
  
He had been right. With Ni'ram out of the way, Zo'or had chosen to attend the Portal Grid ceremony himself. In fact, if one were to believe his press conference, he could think that that had been the Taelon's plan all along.  
  
He smiled. Whatever else could be said, he believed that it was the best thing that had ever happened to humanity. Zo'or was the only Taelon he could predict.  
  
No change in the schedule for the Portal Grid ceremony. Good, then everything was ready. Now all he had to do was wait. He shut off the computer and withdrew into the bowels of the warehouse.  
  
A shouted word from outside was his only warning. Quickly, he ducked behind a crate as the warehouse door was forced open, and over a dozen Volunteers poured into the room. How the hell had they found him?  
  
He knew immediately that he wouldn't be able to hide and wait this one out. releasing the safety on his gun, he took a breath and broke out in a run towards the opposite end of the warehouse. The Volunteers saw him immediately, and he raised his weapon and delivered a series of energy blasts behind him, hoping to at least discourage pursuit long enough to make an exit.  
  
A massive energy blast collided with a crate he had just passed by. Ducking behind another, he realized that he would not have time to recover his equipment.  
  
Firing back again, he was rewarded with a small yelp as one of the Volunteers fell to the ground. Sprinting the remainder of the distance, he picked up his remote and the cannon. Apparently, he would have to make some changes to his plan after all.  
  
As the footsteps drew closer, he stepped between the twin prongs of the tactical portal, and activated the remote. He saw the first Volunteer round the crate just as the portal activated, and his entire vision was engulfed in white.


	12. Developments

**Rock Creek Park, Washington, D.C.  
13:56 EST**  
  
It had been a light winter, and the little snow on the ground was already beginning to melt. The grass made a slight squashing sound under Sandoval's boots as he made his way into the nearby forest. It was warm, too warm for his coat really, but there was nothing to be done about that now.  
  
Agent Sandoval. A form emerged from he trees in front of him, demonstrating his usual stealth.  
  
Sandoval nodded. Tate. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.  
  
Not at all, Tate replied, smiling. You're four minutes early, in fact.  
  
Sandoval glanced at his pocket watch. Yes, well, this is a matter of some urgency.  
  
Well, that's new. Tate motioned back into the forest, and the two set off together. What am I doing for you this time?  
  
Nothing as interesting as my last assignment, Sandoval said. _Although that assignment won't technically be over if—when—Captain Marquette returns,_ he thought. I need you to run an investigation for me.  
  
Tate raised his eyebrows. An investigation? Isn't that more _your_ specialty?  
  
Not this one, Sandoval replied. What I need done takes a lot more time and effort than I can spare.  
  
All right, Tate said slowly. The two of them stopped under a particularly low-hanging tree, and faced each other. Who is it you want me to check out, and what am I looking for?  
  
You're watching Major Liam Kincaid, Sandoval said. And you're looking for any unusual activity for a Taelon protector, especially anything that might lead to the Resistance.  
  
Tate whistled, turning to stare down the path that just barely existed between the trees. You don't ask for much, do you?  
  
I know he's hiding something, Sandoval asserted. What I don't know is what. And I don't have the time or resources to find out, not without telling Zo'or.  
  
So you don't want Zo'or to know.  
  
Do you want the job or not?  
  
There was a pause. Sandoval could hear a bird calling in the distance. _Birds? Is it that time of year already?_ Sandoval's mind shot back to a moment, four years ago, when he and DeeDee had walked down this same path, both unaware it would be for the last time....  
  
Why not? Tate's response shook Sandoval back to the present. In fact, since I'm still trying to figure out how to spend the cash from the last job you gave me...I'll do it for half.  
  
Sandoval said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Contact me as soon as you learn anything. He turned to leave. You know the number.  
  
  
**Taelon Moonbase  
14:12 EST**  
  
Your concern is unnecessary, Zo'or.  
  
Before responding, Zo'or took a moment to observe the expansive room he stood in. Literally dozens of ID portals were arrayed throughout the room, barely leaving room to walk. At the moment, they were inactive, as was the equipment arrayed along the ceiling.  
  
You seem remarkably certain of this, Ta'aj? he observed. Might I ask how you attained this conviction?  
  
The Resistance has already attempted to gain information on this project, Ta'aj said calmly. They failed, and their operative was discovered. It is unlikely that they have the capacity to make a second attempt, which in any case would be no more successful than their first.  
  
You have a dangerously short memory, Ta'aj, Zo'or warned. When Quo'on initiated this project, the Resistance managed to insert an operative and uncover the operation quite painlessly.  
  
_"If you hurt her, I will kill you."_  
  
Zo'or shot around for the source of this voice for a moment, before he realized that it was simply an unbidden recollection. To say nothing of your predecessor on this project, he finished, a little disturbed.  
  
Has Ri'im's death been linked to the Resistance, then?  
  
Zo'or admitted. Not directly. But I have no doubt that the Resistance was responsible. And we cannot allow another such failure as that which Quo'on suffered a year ago.  
  
Then why have you reactivated the project, against Quo'on's directive? Ta'aj asked. If you are as concerned about the Resistance as you appear, then would it not be wiser to find an alternative method?  
  
It is not your place to question my policy, Ta'aj, Zo'or snapped. The Taelon knew very well that all of his alternative methods had failed. So long as we can prevent the discovery of any direct evidence to this project, then we may easily dismiss any Resistance accusations as simple propaganda—  
  
_"...not so easily deceived, Zo'or. He has an uncanny ability to sense when we are lying to him."_  
  
Zo'or exclaimed, forcibly banishing the psychic intrusion.  
  
Is there a problem, Zo'or?  
  
Zo'or said quickly, doing his best to calm himself. All you need to concern yourself with is providing adequate security for this project. And _I_ shall inform you when you have done this to my satisfaction; do not assume. With that, he turned and left Ta'aj alone in the room.  
  
There was a nagging at the edge of his consciousness. Zo'or could not identify it, but he knew he had felt it before. However, he could not determine when, or under what circumstances.  
  
Which made the feeling all the more disturbing.  
  
Zo'or was so preoccupied that he nearly collided with a Volunteer, who quickly backed away, apologizing profusely. Dismissing her with a wave of his hand, Zo'or continued toward the portal at the end of the hall. Hopefully, this feeling would be gone once he rejuvenated.  
  
  
**Doors Building  
14:57 EST**  
  
Make it quick, Liam. I have a meeting in three minutes.  
  
Liam didn't even bother to answer Renee. Instead, he directed his attention at Doors, who was standing motionless and staring out the window. When were you planning on telling me about the portals, Jonathan? When someone got ahold of them and used them _against_ the Resistance? You know, it would be nice if, just _sometimes,_ you would let me in on one of these plans of yours.  
  
What are you talking about, Liam? Renee asked, placing herself between him and Doors.  
  
Whoever's responsible for the portal bombings had at least three mobile portals with him when the Volunteers raided his hideout. He glanced at Renee. You know, like the two portals _you_ gave me to break into the Rizzori Gallery? You told me those were prototypes, how the hell did he get three of them?  
  
Wait a minute, Renee said. What raid? Did they catch him?  
  
No, he escaped through one of the portals, Liam growled. Is he working for you? Is that it? Or are you just helping him out with a little classified equipment?  
  
Save your breath, Liam. Doors turned around slowly to face Liam, stopping him in midsentence. Those portals aren't a Doors project.  
  
Liam said flatly. Then whose?  
  
Doors did not respond for a moment. Then, he turned back toward the window. One Taelon Avenue, he said slowly, and the vehemence was evident in his tone. The next Generation in Human/Taelon Co-ventures.' They've got all the ID projects.  
  
Liam frowned. What about the Portal Grid?  
  
That's applied technology, Renee jumped in. It's covered under the Doors-Taelon Co-venture agreement of two years ago. But One is in charge of all the ID development projects, including the mobile portals.  
  
One Taelon Avenue, Liam mused. Isn't that the company your son is running?  
  
Doors grimaced, and Liam almost wanted to apologize, but Renee spoke up quickly. It's not really a _company_ per se, more an...extended project. Like a group of scientists with an open research grant.  
  
My people tried to develop portal construction technology, Doors said. We failed. Then Joshua steps up and has the damn things working in two months. He sent me those two prototypes as a...gift. He seemed to choke on the word. So he could rub my face in how easily he succeeded where I failed.  
  
We don't know how far along they are with the project, Renee added.  
  
Liam wasn't sure what to say. Did he apologize for falsely accusing Doors and Renee? He certainly had been justified; after learning how long they had kept their knowledge of Ma'el's ship from him, he was not about to let them off suspicion.  
  
Even so, this time he had been wrong. He had to keep in mind that the most obvious answer wasn't always the correct one.  
  
We need to find out how the portals found their way from One Taelon Avenue to the saboteur, he said finally, deciding that it would be best simply not to bring the matter up.  
  
I'll see what my people can dig up, Renee offered. But that place is sealed up tighter than a drum; I don't think we'll find anything.  
  
Miss Palmer, Mr. Masters just arrived, came the voice of Renee's secretary. Doors turned around to face the door, and Renee returned to behind her desk. Liam did not need to be told that this was his cue to leave.  
  
Be sure you tell me if you find anything, Liam warned as he left.  
  
  
**North American Taelon Embassy**  
  
Surprising, how many memories one could pick up in six months.  
  
Of course, there had been many changes made in the last year. The office at the end of the hall had switched hands—twice—and Da'an's office was now guarded by a pair of uniformed Volunteers sporting neutron rifles. He could remember when all the Taelons had needed was a single Protector.  
  
As he had arranged, the storage room down the hall from the Commander of Security's office was unguarded. He could expect it to remain so for a few more minutes, more than enough time. Quickly and silently, he crossed over to one of the cloudy glasslike containers embedded into the wall and placed his hand on it. The pseudo-glass melted away, revealing a set of equipment he easily recognized as his own.  
  
As he retrieved the devices, he quickly ran back over the security report he had intercepted. All three mobile portals and the suitcase they were contained in—check. His Global—downloaded and wiped. Check. He had already deleted the files in the Embassy database; he could restore the Global from disk later. His holoprojector—check. His portable remote had been taken for analysis, as had all his medical equipment. It didn't matter; he would have no more need for the medical equipment, and his remote was a bit redundant in any case, as his Global could be programmed for the same purposes easily enough.  
  
Having recovered all of this, he restored the container's front to existence and located the mobile portal he had used to escape from the warehouse. This one had already been used once, so it would automatically self-destruct once it had been activated a second time. As he was setting it up, he called up with one hand the latest version of Da'an's schedule. _Portal Grid Ceremony, Chicago, Monday, noon,_ he noted. Good, no changes. Everything was set.  
  
Dismissing the datastream, he stepped into the Portal. The device automatically activated, and the Embassy disappeared in a wave of white. His last thought was of how he had never thought his last time in the building would be like this.  
  
  
Da'an's hand closed tightly around the lump of blue organic material. The Taelon's eyes closed, then disappeared entirely as his human facade disappeared to reveal the blue, almost wire-frame of his true appearance. Sandoval knew this was simply so that he could more easily break down the compound and distribute it throughout his body, but it nonetheless gave the implant an odd feeling. An unpleasant reminder that, as much as he would like to think he was free, his CVI's motivational imperative still had some lingering influence over him.  
  
Through the Taelon's now-translucent hand, he could actually see the kryss material, glowing brightly, being dissolved and carried on energy veins throughout Da'an's body. It was almost funny, how Earth, the Taelons' only hope for survival, had proven in fact deadly to them. It was somewhat ironic that the solution relied on ingesting human genetic material by using humans to this Taelon plant life. The process struck Sandoval as a bit morbid, but then, some of the most terrible atrocities in human history had also been the most calculated and inventive.  
  
At least no one was dying this time. Sandoval would make his move when he was ready. And when he was assured of success.  
  
Has there been any news, Agent Sandoval? Da'an asked, reassembling his facade as he finished absorbing the kryss.  
  
We analyzed the medical equipment we found at the freight yard, Sandoval said. And one of the devices we found could have been used to insert a device such as the GPS transmitter found in Commander Clarke. I'm convinced that we found the saboteur's hideout.  
  
This is excellent news, Da'an said. Will you be able to use this knowledge to locate this saboteur?  
  
The information we downloaded from his Global seems to confirm that his next move is going to be at the Portal Grid Ceremony, tomorrow. Sandoval began slowly to pace in front of the Taelon. I don't know what that move will be.  
  
I see. Da'an's eyes followed Sandoval, unblinking. And will you be able to protect against this man?  
  
With most of his equipment confiscated...yes, I believe so, Sandoval replied.  
  
The Taelon closed his eyes. Very well. You are dismissed.  
  
Nodding, Sandoval made his way to the exit. Once around the corner, he opened his Global and checked for any recent messages. Sure enough, one of his red flags had been activated in the storage room, where the saboteur's equipment had been placed. It contained no further information, but Sandoval didn't need any. He was a little surprised by how quickly the man had managed to recover his equipment, but he had fully expected him to do so.  
  
Everything was going as he had expected. Now he had only to wait until tomorrow to see if his suspicions about this saboteur were accurate.  
  
One more day. Closing his Global, he walked off toward the shuttlebay.


	13. Encounters

**Roosevelt Portal Nexus, Chicago, Illinois  
Monday, 11:54 Local (12:54 EST)**  
  
The Portal Nexus building had been designed by human architects with the intent of fusing the major points of both human and Taelon design style. The end result was something completely unique. The outside was a simple geodesic dome constructed of Taelon-inspired transparent composites, but the inside was much more advanced than the average greenhouse. There were two levels; the main concourse on the ground floor contained all the administrative stations — bookings, passports, and the like — as well as a large cafeteria in the sunken center. The second floor, supported by metal struts designed to mimic the spines used in Taelon buildings, was floored with a translucent dark composite, and contained all the portals, over a hundred in all, capable of linking to any other nexus in the world, and through those, to dozens of other portals in towns too small to have a nexus. The grids of the dome had been fitted with holoprojectors, capable of filling the entire inside of the dome with moving images of any shape or size. The building was trisymmetrical; a person entering through any of the three main entrances would see the same layout.  
  
At the moment, the building was crawling with reporters, dignitaries, speakers, and technicians, preparing everything for the upcoming ceremony, as well as two dozen Volunteers spaced around the building.  
  
All of which made it difficult to find anyplace private.  
  
I don't care _what_ he thinks is down there, Doors growled, doing his best to shield his Global and conversation from any passersby. He's not making any moves that could alert the Taelons. We're on a very thin tightrope here; I'm not taking that kind of a risk.  
  
Yes, sir. The young man's face disappeared, and Doors closed his Global. His Peru operation had apparently led him into a false sense of security when dealing with international Resistance concerns. If he weren't careful, the team he was working with on the Giza Plateau would cause an unprecedented disaster. Combine this with the Saboteur, and his carefully laid plans regarding Liam and Red Letter beginning to unravel, Doors was having a very bad week.  
  
Trouble at the office?  
  
Which had just taken a left turn to horrible. What do you want, Joshua?  
  
When the elder Doors did not turn to acknowledge his presence, the younger stepped forward, blocking his father's view of the Nexus wall. Want? What makes you think I want something?  
  
Because I doubt even you would have the gall to come up to me without a damn good reason, Doors snapped. After what you pulled.  
  
Joshua nodded. Obviously, you have a right to be upset. Although, from what I see, he made a sweeping gesture to indicate the Nexus building, it all turned out for the best.  
  
Doors simply turned away, not trusting himself to say anything. _You betrayed me, Joshua. How could that turn out for the best?_  
  
Joshua pressed, It looks like you're already in the process of getting even. Before Doors could think what he meant, his son continued, That was one of our Portals your man used to break into that art gallery a couple weeks ago?  
  
I don't run the Resistance anymore, Doors said, but his voice was so unsteady that he realized he would not even have believed himself. As usual, his son had found his weakness, and used it to run him through.  
  
Somehow, Dad, you're not that convincing, Joshua confirmed. Wouldn't you admit it's kind of ironic, though? I mean, I offer you something of mine in good faith, and you use it towards your own goals. And it's me the Taelons blame. Sound familiar?  
  
I didn't do anything to hurt you, Doors said. I didn't even have anything to do with that. That at least was true. Renee had been acting on her own initiative.  
  
Uh-huh. Well, it doesn't really matter. The Taelons can't afford to do without us. We are the innovative bridge between our two species, the next step in creative technology. Doors International, on the other hand, is just a middleman. In a few years, the Taelons will have established themselves on this world, your contract will run out, and Taelon technology will begin flowing directly into hundreds of smaller companies. When that happens, Doors International will go the way of Enron and Microsoft. He directed his gaze at the holographic clouds rushing past on the Nexus walls, as if preaching directly to the heavens. And the future will truly be here.  
  
The future being you, of course.  
  
Joshua smiled. One Taelon Avenue will pave the way for a world of private co-ventures, using Taelon science to create human technology. We open the doors for an entire new era of human industry, where you simply take Taelon gizmos and put a Doors stamp on them. There's no future in that. Face it, dad: your co-ventures, your, company, your Resistance... He returned his gaze to his father. Well, _you_ dad...are obsolete.  
  
For months now, Doors had been trying to justify his son's betrayal just before last year's election. In the time they had worked together on his campaign, he had gotten to know his son again, and all his instincts screamed that the man who had managed his campaign was not the same man who destroyed it. It was only now that he realized just how right he had been. He didn't know how, or why, but this was...wrong.  
  
You're not my son, he declared, and turned to leave. He expected some parting shot from his — from Joshua, but he was silent.  
  
  
  
We'll be starting with your introduction, then Mr. Doors' remarks. After that, we have Da'an's address, then Zo'or's, and finally, it's back to you for the closing. Basically, exactly how we had planned it to go, except we cut Ni'ram out and added Zo'or after Da'an.  
  
_Which doesn't affect me at all._ I think I can cope, Renee said, smiling.  
  
The young MC ushered her over to the row of seats arrayed behind the podium. Renee eyed the portal that had been set up just behind the podium. She envied the reporters milling around for their ignorance of the danger that may be lurking in that portal. But there was nothing to be done about it at the moment except trust Sandoval — she nearly choked on the thought — and Liam to prevent this saboteur from striking here.  
  
Sitting down and patiently waiting for the affairs to start, Renee took to examining the building around here. Some cities, such as New York and Washington, DC, had opted to simply use an unmanned nexus and distribute portals throughout the city, while others chose this approach of having a single giant Nexus building. This seemed a popular choice in the Midwest, where there were few truly large cities to justify the added expense of Chicago was the largest city so far to use this approach, which was the major reason this site had been chosen for the ceremony.  
  
Also, while a public building, more than half the funds for the Portal Nexus had come from Doors International through the Co-venture project; in fact, the Portal Grid itself had been a Doors conception. Meaning Renee, as executive in charge of the project, was almost single-handedly responsible for its being here.  
  
So if anything went wrong because of this, it would be her fault.  
  
Renee shook herself away from the thought. If she could just find one thing to feel good about, she would be happy. Just one thing. Was that too much to ask?  
  
She almost didn't notice Doors sit down next to her. Anything wrong? she asked absently, referring to the Global call which had taken him away earlier.  
  
Rashid thinks he found something on the Giza Plateau and wants to dig it up, Doors said, just as absently.  
  
Damn. Doesn't he realize what kind of... Renee trailed off as she noticed the pain in Doors' face. Is everything all right, Jonathan?  
  
Of course not, Doors snapped. When has everything been all right? Renee drew back, surprised, and he took a breath before continuing. Joshua's here, he explained.  
  
Renee closed her eyes. She didn't know Doors' son well, but she knew Jonathan well enough to realize how important Joshua was to him. I'm sorry.  
  
Don't be. Doors' face was now its characteristic hard mask. That isn't my son. I never knew him well, but I can tell you that that man— he motioned into the crowd, and Renee saw Joshua sitting in one of the front chairs, speaking to a reporter. isn't him.  
  
What do you mean, Jonathan? Renee asked, running through all the possibilities that occurred to her. You think he's some kind of...impostor? A replicant or something?  
  
I don't know. Doors fixed her with a gaze that she hadn't seen for a long time. It was the same pained but determined look he had given her four years ago, right after Amanda's death. But you can be sure I'm going to find out.  
  
Amanda...and his father, Jubal. Both of their lives ended because of the Taelons. Now his son, Joshua, had fallen victim to them, too? What was this going to do to him?  
  
How can I help? she asked.  
  
Doors sighed. You can't, Renee. I have to do this myself.  
  
No, Jonathan. Renee blurted out. This isn't just your fight. Doors simply stared at her. We're disorganized enough as it is, she continued, haltingly. We're already running two separate Resistances; I don't want to think what would happen if we started off on our own. We can't make this personal, Jonathan.  
  
_Funny, Renee. You telling someone else not to make the fight personal?_  
  
The look Doors gave her reflected her thoughts. This _is_ personal, Renee. Dammit, this is my _son_ we're talking about.  
  
Jonathan, it's always _somebody's_ son, Renee pressed, trying the same argument she had used on herself dozens of times. Or daughter, husband, wife, brother, sister, cousin...God, I know it's different when they happen to be yours, but this is bigger than just us. We're trying to save the world, remember?  
  
Save the world, Doors scoffed. A world that doesn't even realize it's in danger. They don't even _want_ to be saved. He shook his head. They've bought into the idea that these..._beings_ are here for nothing else than the well-being of humanity, and are two blind to see the truth about them. I've _tried_ helping them, Renee. But they don't want anything to change.  
  
The people were beginning to take their seats. The ceremony would be starting soon, Renee realized. Do you think...maybe we're taking the wrong tack? she asked after a pause. I mean, I can understand why people would be reluctant to reject the Taelons; they _have_ made the world a better place for most of us. I'm not defending them, she added quickly, but I think a lot of our troubles are because we really would be worse off without the Taelons.  
  
So what are you suggesting? Doors asked. That we should sit down with Zo'or and ask him very nicely to stop experimenting on us?  
  
Of course not. _Then what **are** you trying to say, Renee? Don't tell me you're going soft now._ I just...I don't know, Jonathan. But something's telling me that what we're doing now...isn't going to work. That we might _have_ to find a way that we can both come out winners.  
  
For a long time, Doors said nothing. He did not look at her, or acknowledge that he had heard her at all. Renee knew enough not to force him.  
  
_What happened to you, Renee?_ she demanded. Not too long ago, she had prided herself on her ability to go to whatever extreme was needed of her in order to get rid of the Taelons. Hell, she had even put a gun to the leader of the Resistance's head! Now, she was going so far as to question if they should be doing so at all? Was she finally losing her nerve?  
  
Or was she starting to really look at the big picture for the first time?  
  
Renee, I've been thinking the same thing for over a year, Doors said, finally. He was still staring off into the crowd. At his son, Renee assumed. And if you have any ideas on how we can do it, I'd be happy to hear them. But I'm not going to let them get away with what they're doing to us in the meantime.  
  
Renee couldn't think of a thing to say.  
  
  
  
You've done an excellent job here, Mr. Davies, he said to the man standing next to him, as he carefully marked the locations of the Nexus security guards. As he had requested, they had been arrayed so as not to attract attention, whereas the Volunteers were left in plain sight.  
  
Thank you, Mr. Sandoval, Davies said, smiling. I was actually hoping for this effect from the beginning. I wanted people to be able to see that there were guards here, but I didn't want that thrust in their faces, if you know what I mean.  
  
You managed it quite well, Sandoval appraised. I think I'll leave the rest to you.  
  
Davies nodded, and Sandoval took his leave of the man. Striding casually across the hall, he stood beside a young Volunteer, pretending to observe the holographic cloudscape racing by on the walls. Is everything ready? he asked.  
  
We've transferred all security out of the service level and installed the sensors you wanted, the Volunteer replied. Everything checks out.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sandoval looked at the man.  
  
Don't you think that removing security was a bit obvious? He'll surely know that he's being set up.  
  
Sandoval nodded. I don't doubt it.  
  
With a nod, Sandoval took his leave of the Volunteer and headed to his position at the back of the crowd, on the steps leading up to one of the main entrances. From here, he could observe the entire crowd and the stage at the same time. It felt a little unsettling to be unable to observe the second level, but he reminded himself that the floor was quite solid, making sniping impossible.  
  
Besides, he doubted that the threat would be coming from above.  
  
Everyone was finally seated, and an expectant silence fell over the room. The MC stepped up to the podium, and scanned the room in a classic opening gesture. Ladies and gentlemen, he began, I'd like to welcome you all to the opening of the world's first nexus station for the Fixed-Link Global Transit System. As the crowd began to applaud, Sandoval wondered just how many of them had actually understood what that meant. Before long, there will be a web of these structures stretching around the world, and any man, woman, or child will be able to travel to any point, in any country, in no less than half an hour, and for a price that, ten years ago, would have been outrageous for a flight from here to New York.  
  
More applause. Sandoval checked his pocket watch. Fifteen seconds had passed. He was obviously getting impatient.  
  
Well, I know none of you came here for a lecture, so I'm going to turn over the mike to the woman responsible for all this. He motioned to the woman sitting nearest to the podium. Ms. Renee Palmer!  
  
As Palmer approached the stage, Sandoval's Global beeped. Everything all right, Major? he asked, opening the device.  
  
We're ready at this end, Kincaid replied. So far, there haven't been any problems with the portal that we can see.  
  
_He seems to interfere with the sending portal directly,_ Sandoval thought. _Since we're only sending Da'an, Zo'or, and Kincaid, he wouldn't have had any opportunity to do so. Meaning either he'll strike on their way out, or...he has something else planned._ Everything seems to be going as planned here, as well. I think it would be safe to proceed.  
  
Kincaid replied, and cut off the signal.  
  
...So I'd like to turn this over to the man who gave me the chance to be a part of this, and really got the ball rolling on all this to begin with, Palmer was saying. Sandoval had missed her speech. Well, he could always play it back from his CVI later. Although I don't think he needs any introduction...Ladies and gentlemen, Jonathan Doors.  
  
Sandoval put aside all the security concerns for the moment; he was very interested to hear what the businessman turned Resistance mastermind turned Presidential candidate turned born-again businessman had to say.  
  
I'm sure some of you are still suffering a bit of whiplash from my change of attitude following the election last year, Doors said, drawing slight laughter from the audience. To be honest, I've been at a loss to explain it myself. But I think we have to realize that...we don't live in a world of absolutes. We may not see eye-to eye with the Taelons at times, but only a fool could deny the wonders they have performed for us. And my foremost concern must always be what course of action is the best for humanity. He took an appraising look around him, indicating the Nexus building. And when I see accomplishments like this, I cannot doubt that I made the right choice. The Portal Grid is the perfect example of using Taelon technology to improve the quality of life for humanity, and I for one am very thankful for this opportunity. I don't think that anyone, standing here, could say differently. So I am proud to present the Portal Grid. For humanity, in the hopes that we continue the rapid progress we have made over the last four years.  
  
The applause was shattering. Sandoval looked at his watch. Doors had not even been talking for a minute, much less time than he had been scheduled for. Obviously he had come up with that speech on the spot. While he was wondering what this meant, he withdrew his Global and sent the warning to Kincaid to get Da'an and Zo'or ready.  
  
said the MC after the applause had died down, We now have a pair of very special guests with us. The North American Companion, Da'an, and the leader of the Taelon Synod, Zo'or. He held up his hand before the applause could start again. As an added bonus, they will be arriving through a prototype interdimensional portal, made on Earth, by the engineers at One Taelon Avenue, one of our newest co-venture projects. He stepped out of the way, so that everyone could get a good look at the portal. Anyone could see that it was not a Taelon creation; the metal construction and clearly inorganic shape easily marked it as human-made. Ladies and gentlemen, Da'an and Zo'or!  
  
The cue given, Sandoval sent the signal, and the portal hummed to life. Instead of meeting at the center of the portal, however, the two glowing rings remained centered between the twin pillars at each end. Sandoval suppressed his suspicion, reminding himself that some differences were inevitable with the human-made device. A moment later, the two rings became a horizontal pillar, which faded away to reveal two Taelons and Major Kincaid, all safe and sound. Opening his Global, Sandoval checked all the security reports, and nothing had gone amiss. Everything was fine.  
  
Which in itself was disturbing.  
  
  
  
When I first arrived on this world four years ago, I realized immediately that humanity could become an exceptional addition to the galactic community. Da'an scanned the audience. I am pleased to see that I was correct. The swiftness with which you have grasped the workings of our technology indicates a readiness to take part in this much greater challenge.  
  
Liam slowly walked to the side of the stage area, scanning the giant room. There certainly seemed to be enough guards stationed to deter any trouble, and he couldn't spot any weaknesses in the arrangement. But if anything was going to go wrong, it would probably be during either Da'an's speech or Zo'or's.  
  
Of course, if there was a bomb planted, it would probably be out of sight, and Liam would have no idea what to do until it exploded. With Sandoval handling the security, he was of course completely out of the loop, and had no idea even what to check. He felt helpless. His presence was little more than honorary.  
  
But what could he do? Sighing, he opened his Global to check on the current security report—  
  
_It was a dark room whose only illumination came from a bank of dim ceiling lights which were obviously not being run anywhere near full power. The skeletal frames of inactive emergency portals filled the room, and a glass window stretched across an entire wall, behind which resided a host of equipment and control consoles.  
  
Darting between the emergency portals was a lone, dark form, carrying something in his hand._  
  
As soon as the vision disappeared, Liam began walking away from the crowd, towards one of the service stairs to the building's lower level.  
  
  
Sandoval immediately noticed Kincaid's departure, but was unable to peruse him quickly without disrupting the proceeding. Putting away his Global, he made for the exit, intending to use one of the access ladders outside to catch the Major before he got away.  
  
  
The door to the control room had been stubborn, but he had finally managed to make entry and input what he needed into the main computer. erasing the evidence of his presence had taken a little longer than he had expected, but no serious problems had appeared. Now all that was left was to get out without anyone noticing.  
  
Don't move!  
  
Damn.  
  
Quickly measuring the distance to the exit, he raised his gun and delivered a series of blasts in the direction of the voice as he broke out into a flat run. _Twice in as many days...._ The man shouted something, and then returned fire. Both of them missed by a wide margin.  
  
The door swung open without protest, and with the smoothness of a structure newly installed. Taking one last shot behind him, he quickly made his way down.  
  
How long was it at a run back to the portal? He wondered if he would be able to make it this time. Until now, things had been a veritable cake walk. Unfortunately, his plan had gone a bit too well. He should have known better than to underestimate Sandoval.  
  
There were steps coming down behind him now. Throwing open the door at the bottom of the stairs, he hurried into the service tunnel.  
  
  
Just out of reach. Liam could never seem to get quite close enough to this man to do anything except dodge an energy blast. He didn't know where he was being taken, but he was sure that this guy had some sort of plan.  
  
_Who is he?_ That thought kept running through his head. No one seemed to have the slightest idea; not Sandoval, not Doors or Renee, not Da'an. The only one who seemed to know anything was Zo'or, and he seemed almost _scared_.  
  
He was chasing someone who could scare Zo'or. He did not like what that meant.  
  
Liam wheeled around a corner of sorts to see the man about two-thirds of the way down a long straight stretch, his gun lowered as he sprinted toward what looked like a dead end. Hold it right there! he shouted, raising his own energy pistol. He was ready to fire, but the other man stopped and spun around. He started to raise his weapon, but seeing Liam's, he froze.  
  
For a moment, Liam didn't know what to do. He hadn't actually expected to catch him. Drop your weapon, he warned, taking a step forward.  
  
Not a chance, he replied.  
  
With his free hand, Liam activated the automatic signal on his Global, alerting security. It's over, he said, taking another step forward. There's nowhere to run.  
  
I'm not running, the man shot back.  
  
Liam took another step, and froze. There was only a single bank of lights, but even that was enough for him to recognize he man he was facing. he whispered. No. You're dead.  
  
That's right, said the man. I am. Let me go.  
  
I can't do that, Liam stated. The other man responded by raising his weapon directly at Liam.   
  
Why not? he demanded. I don't have anything to lose.  
  
Liam heard a noise behind him, the sound of running feet. Someone was coming.  
  
I'm sorry, the other man was saying, and before Liam could react, he had pulled the trigger.  
  
The blast sent Liam flying backwards, onto the floor. He reflexively fired his own weapon, but the shot went wild. Pain erupted from the center of his chest, along with a horrible electric tingle. His arms became numb, and he was forced to drop his pistol. Struggling to keep his eyes in focus, he saw the other man enter a mobile portal at the end of the corridor and disappear. He gritted his teeth, as much at having him escape as the pain in his chest.  
  
By the time he had realized that the wound was by no means lethal, Sandoval was standing over him. he demanded. What happened?  
  
He got away, Liam said, motioning as best he could to the end of the hall, where the portal had now crumbled to dust.  
  
How close did you get? Could you identify him?  
  
_I've been shot, and he wants a witness identification?_ Struggling against the pain, Liam strove to sit himself up. Yeah. I can.


	14. Revelations

**Augur's Place  
Monday, 13:32 EST**  
  
All right, Liam. What did I tell you about coming here when I was entertaining?  
  
Just listen. Liam did his best to direct the hacker's attention away from the closed elevator door. I need your help with something.  
  
Augur sighed. Haven't we already had this talk?  
  
You remember a few months ago, when you were a part of that Taelon experiment?  
  
How could I forget?  
  
Liam folded his arms, and instantly regretted it as another wave of pain shot through his chest. Right. Well, I need your help to track down one of the other members.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
We should consider ourselves fortunate that this saboteur was unable to affect the ceremony.  
  
Zo'or paid Da'an no attention. The intruding presence he had felt ever since learning of the first portal bombing was now completely disrupting his focus. He desperately wished to understand why this was happening, but he could find no explanation.  
  
During the ceremony, the intrusion had been overwhelming. He had barely stumbled through his speech as he was overwhelmed with the emotions of this human. Pain, anger, frustration...but he had no idea _who he was_.  
  
I shall consider myself fortunate, he replied, when this man is found.  
  
How did he know the saboteur was a man?  
  
  
**Augur's Place**  
  
Now remember, I'm only showing you this because I happened to be a little curious about this one myself, Augur warned.  
  
Uh huh. What did you find?  
  
Glaring at Liam, Augur motioned him over to a computer terminal, on which appeared a stock photo of the man Liam had recognized at the ceremony. He was around forty, with pale blond hair and a permanent frown. His name's Bradley Howard. He was a pioneer of sorts—a professional assassin who ate computer security for breakfast. Came up with some really inventive ways to knock people off. Supposedly died two years ago of a heart attack.  
  
He's an assassin? Liam asked. It would certainly explain his actions here—if he wasn't supposed to be dead. But... Then what was he doing up on the Mothership?  
  
Well, the Taelons do have a history of rehabilitating' our criminals, Augur reminded. That's what I was doing there, after all. But you know never to look at the obvious solution when the Taelons are around. So— He moved to another monitor and brought it to life. I decided to look a little deeper.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
Are you well, Zo'or?  
  
Of course he was not well. Of all beings, he had to share his consciousness with that of a _human_. He had considered himself fortunate that his position as Synod leader had allowed him to spend most of his time in relative isolation from the primitives. Which was indeed fortunate, as he doubted he could have managed being immersed in the creatures as he had been when he first arrived. Especially as he had been too repulsed by the use of human-infested kryss to even consider the option for himself.  
  
And now he had to share his consciousness with one?  
  
he replied. Admit to Da'an that he had somehow established a _connection_ with a human? That was one thing he would never do.  
  
  
**Augur's Place**  
  
You remember how the Taelons transferred that Russian doctor's—Smerdyakov's—consciousness into another host for that fight they staged? Augur visibly winced at the memory.  
  
Liam nodded. They were planning to use a similar process with the biosurrogute program.  
  
The hacker indicated the graph displayed on the computer screen next to Howard's photo. Well, just in case, I decided to check out his brainwave patterns—you know the Taelons like to keep that sort of information on all their lackeys. He tapped a button, and a second, seemingly identical brainwave graph appeared beneath the first one, but with another man's photo beside it. Although to get a match, I had to look inside the _Resistance_ files.  
  
  
**Taelon Mothership**  
  
Your report, Agent Sandoval?  
  
The implant bowed his head at Zo'or. We were unable to catch the saboteur, as you know. The mobile portal he used had self-destructed by the time we managed to examine it, and our search revealed no trace of where he might have gone. He could be anywhere.  
  
Zo'or tried desperately to control his anger. This is a level of failure I will not tolerate, Agent Sandoval.  
  
It's not a total loss, Sandoval offered. Based on Major Kincaid's report, I believe I have determined the identity of the saboteur.  
  
There was a pause. The human seemed to be waiting for Zo'or's response. And is it your intent to share this information? he demanded.  
  
Of course. Sandoval replied, but still said nothing further.  
  
_Who is he_, Agent Sandoval? Zo'or demanded, allowing his frustration to leak into his voice.  
  
_His_ frustration?  
  
After another agonizing pause, Sandoval looked directly into Zo'or's eyes, remaining completely expressionless. William Boone.


	15. Identity

**Washington, D.C.  
Monday, 23:23 EST**  
  
William Boone was dead.  
  
He had reached that conclusion months ago. He might carry Boone's memories, his experiences, but that was not enough. He was a Taelon creation, their latest experiment, nothing more. Boone's memories were nothing more than a sort of template; he had to have them in order to be anything more than a walking robot, but that wasn't to say he needed to be aware of them.  
  
For months, he had been slaved in the Moonbase, overseeing the establishment of the Taelons' newest ways of playing with human souls. Second Chances, Forge, para-Mneme...he had handled the day-to-day logistics for all of these, reporting directly to Sandoval. In a strong sense, he had made those projects happen. All done blindly, without any true knowledge of what he was doing or what effect it would have.  
  
Then, he had been taxed with the one job he simply could not stand. He had been instructed to reactivate the ID Filter project, the term the Taelons used for selectively abducting ID portal users and experimenting on them. He would like to think that his conscience finally caught up to him, but the truth was much simpler. Boone's sister had once been subjected to the process, and the feelings he bore regarding this finally managed to break through the mental barrier the Taelons had created.  
  
And there he had been. The demon with a soul, aware of his own deeds, and aware that he had consented of his own free will. If it could be called that. The shock of this realization quickly evolved into a blinding rage at the beings who had done this to him. He had resolved right there that he would make the Taelons pay. Not for the deeds themselves; that had never entered his mind. Rather, for forcing him to take a part in them. His goal was vengeance, plain and simple. He didn't care what happened to himself; as far as the world was concerned, he was long dead and forgotten. And he lived his own private hell every waking hour.  
  
The Taelons had called him Aside from the irony of Taelons reading the Bible, the name had seemed appropriate. William Boone, who had died in the service of the Taelons, was resurrected by them, to serve them once more. Perfect sense.  
  
Except that Boone had never returned. The Taelons had made sure of that. They didn't _want_ him back. Probably for the same reason they had killed him in the first place, whatever that was. All they wanted was a nice, loyal servant to do their bidding. Boone's memories just made him the perfect subject for their little experiment. And then again. Make Your Own Slave; what better way to describe the biosurrogute program. You create subjects who look, act and smell human, and can even be made to _think_ they were, but are in reality, simply a complex machine.  
  
Boone had wanted to move out to the Midwest with his wife and start a family. Away from the world, away from the Taelons, away from the conflict. A nice, big house with just him, her and the kids.  
  
But Boone was dead. His wife was dead. Any chance for that life was long gone, no matter where his memories were stored. Peace was a concept as alien to Taelon protectors as their masters. Boone's life had ended the day he had been called to the Taelon Embassy. Nothing could change any of that now.  
  
Lazarus wasn't trying to change anything. He wasn't operating under any pretense of having humanity's best interests at heart. He was out for vengeance. He wanted the Taelons to suffer. To endure just a fraction of what they had forced upon him. That was his only goal. And he didn't have to plan what to do after this goal was accomplished, because he was absolutely certain that he would die in the process.  
  
Prisoners who had been placed in sensory deprivation tanks called themselves They had no sense of right or wrong, and would do anything for a price, simply because they didn't care about anything. Boone had hated the concept of SenDep for this reason, had hated what became of those people. Ironic that, two years later, he would become one.  
  
But then, irony was nothing more than cheap humor.  
  
Lazarus gazed across the water at the Taelon Embassy, then up, at the moon, and the tiny blue dot that was the Mothership. If they hadn't known his identity before, they certainly did now. He would have liked to have seen Zo'or's reaction to the news that his own experiment was the the one taking his operation apart.  
  
Well, one couldn't have everything. And some considerably less than others. He silently turned and strode back into the city.


	16. Beliefs

**Taelon Mothership  
Tuesday, 06:02 EST**  
  
Were my instructions not clear, Agent Sandoval?  
  
They were, Zo'or.  
  
Then why have they not been carried out?  
  
It's not that simple, Sandoval started. We can track down Boone's brainwave patterns, but setting up the equipment necessary for the process is not easy. To say nothing about our uncertainty that it will even be effective against a biosurrogute. This will take _time_, Zo'or.  
  
I do not care what your excuses are, or what measures you must take. You are to find William Boone and destroy him, is that clear?  
  
Yes, Zo'or. Da'an had known Sandoval for three years, yet the man's reaction to Zo'or's command was still unreadable to him. But then, he had known Zo'or for nearly a thousand years, and the Taelon's attitude was just as confusing.  
  
Of course, his own emotional reaction might be serving to interfere with his perception.  
  
Might I inquire, he began, as to the reasons for your celerity in this matter?  
  
It should be clear to you that we cannot allow this...renegade to proceed in his course of destruction, Zo'or snapped back.  
  
I feel obliged to remind you, Da'an said calmly, that were it not for your actions, this renegade would not exist.  
  
For a moment, the two Taelons merely stared at each other. Not for the first time, Da'an wished that he could sense what his child was feeling, as most Taelons could. Then you believe that this occurrence is _my_ infirmity?  
  
Were you not the cause of Commander Boone's death? Da'an demanded. Were you not the one who deigned to implant his consciousness in another host body? Did you not repeat the process, even after he nearly destroyed the Mothership? He looked searchingly at the other Taelon. For I have a clear recollection of each of these occurrences.  
  
He might not be able to sense the Zo'or's emotions, but it was clear from the Taelon's body language that his air of indignation was forced. If I had foreseen this outcome, I certainly would not have chosen this course of action.  
  
Then what outcome did you see? Da'an only half-realized how strongly his emotions had been affecting him. You never have fully explained your reasons for terminating my Protector. If you had doubts of his loyalty, then surely you would not have restored his consciousness. He paused. Or was it something simpler, Zo'or? Perhaps you simply wished to decline me one of my protectors, as you did Agent Sandoval? Could it be that Boone was in truth nothing more than a pawn in your misguided quest for power?  
  
For a moment, Zo'or simply stared at him. I find it odd that you are still opposed to my decision, he said finally. It seems to have proven beneficial to you as well.  
  
Da'an paused. And how might that be?  
  
Zo'or smiled. When had he picked up _that_ human expression? Were it not for Commander Boone's death, you would not have been caused to meet Major Kincaid.  
  
That stopped Da'an cold. What did he mean by that? Did he know the truth regarding Liam? No, if Zo'or was aware of Liam's Kimera heritage, then he would not still be walking free. Zo'or was, however, aware of the bond the two shared, however, even if he did not quite understand it. Perhaps this was all he meant.  
  
That provides no excuse for your heresy, Zo'or, he said, choosing to ignore the remark. What you have done to Commander Boone is a violation of our oldest moral codes.  
  
Boone was a member of an inferior species, Zo'or shot back. One that we may do with as we please. You demonstrated this yourself when you ordered the death of his wife.  
  
Da'an closed his eyes, allowing his facade to slip for a moment as he searched himself for a response to give Zo'or. When the Synod had learned that Sandoval had arranged the death of Boone's wife, they had not believed that any human motivated by a CVI could take such an action on his own, and Da'an had been held responsible. He had agreed, because at the time, he had believed it himself. As he realized how easily the humans could overcome their CVIs, it became clear to him that they were not as easily controlled as had been thought.  
  
Which brought forth another question. A question Da'an had been struggling with, to some degree, for the last four years.  
  
You are young, he began. You cannot recall a time before we were struggling to survive. In this struggle, we have adopted many policies which challenge our long-standing beliefs, but we must recall that we do so only when we must. We cannot allow our struggle to survive to consume us, for then we shall have already lost that which we wish to preserve.  
  
Ridiculous. Once the survival of our race is ensured, we may restore your prized Taelon values. He turned away, to stare out the viewport at the distant Earth. But first, we must survive.  
  
Da'an remembered making a similar remark to Ni'ram just three days earlier. Our values are what define our existence, Zo'or, he said, recalling Ni'ram's response. If we sacrifice these values, then what is the purpose of existence?  
  
Foolish sentiment. Zo'or looked at Da'an. You were once one of the strongest proponents of this policy.  
  
One might then deduce from my change of opinion that such a course is not as wise as we may have believed.  
  
One might. But _I_ deduce that you have become too involved with this lesser species. Your judgment is no longer reliable. I shall do as I please.  
  
As Zo'or stared at him, Da'an truly realized for the first time just how powerless he was against his child's will. Disgraced within the Synod, ignored by Zo'or, with no allies remaining, he could do nothing to dissuade the other Taelon from his self-destructive path, and he could do nothing to prevent him from carrying out his plan. He was completely helpless. And Zo'or knew it.  
  
Then I can only hope that that which you please is also what is best for our species, he said, and strode off the bridge.  
  
  
**Dela Reya Apartment Complex, Los Angeles, California  
07:24 Local (11:24 EST)**  
  
It was a fairly average apartment building; not expensive, but not shabby. It looked very new, as well, with large windows affording an impressive view of the Pacific Ocean, even from the stairwell. The halls were covered with a pattern of light greys of varying shades, making it look like a set of shadows created by an uneven surface. It had a certain soothing, peaceful quality about it.  
  
Checking the door number from his Global, Liam searched around for a bell. After a moment, he chose simply to use the knocker hanging from the door. Doing so caused a bell to chime inside, and he quickly stopped knocking. _Interesting touch_, he thought.  
  
After a moment, the door opened to reveal a woman in her late thirties with shoulder-length blonde hair and a brown work suit. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, and looked like she needed it.   
  
Sarah Boone? Liam asked. She nodded, and he reached for his ID. I'm Major Liam Kincaid, Da'an's protector —  
  
Yes, yes, I recognize you. She stepped away from the door. Come in.  
  
Stepping through the doorway, Liam took a brief look around the apartment. It was not large, but the sparse furniture — which looked to have been selected without any real concern for how it would match the room — created at least the illusion of space. One side was almost entirely glass, looking out over the city of Los Angeles and the ocean beyond. On the far wall rested a flat TV, just beside the door to the kitchen. A couch lay halfway between the TV and the near wall, behind which was a large table, presumably for meals, but the smaller glass table in front of the couch seemed to be getting more use in that area. A bookshelf covered the near wall, on either side of another doorway, which Liam assumed led to the bedroom. A small, old hardwood desk rested against the wall containing the entrance, on which rested a computer and several photographs. Liam noticed one of her, another man whom he recognized as William Boone, and another woman. A single orchid rested in a small vase beside that picture.  
  
Have a seat. Sarah motioned to the dinner table, taking a seat herself and another drink of coffee.  
  
I'm sorry about coming so early, Liam said, settling into the chair opposite her. But this is fairly urgent.  
  
It's all right. She set down the coffee mug. So what's this about, Major?  
  
I need to ask you a few questions about your brother.  
  
She frowned. I don't think I understand.  
  
Liam could guess what she was thinking. For him to be showing up nearly a year after Boone's death indicated a very slow investigation. Please, if you'll just bear with me?  
  
Taking another sip of her coffee, Sarah nodded. All right.  
  
First of all, could you tell me a little bit about him? What was he like?  
  
She sighed. Well, he was...a good man. Kind. He had a nasty temper sometimes — She smiled, looking down at the coffee mug. But you'd almost never know it. He always seemed to have a smile on his face. That changed after Kate died, though.  
  
Liam remembered the bio he had read back at Augur's place. Oh. His wife. _Probably the other woman in the picture_, he thought.  
  
Sarah nodded. She died right before he took that job with the Taelons. He was a different man after that. Can't say I blame him.  
  
How did he feel about his job with the Taelons? Liam asked.  
  
I really could never tell. He never really seemed happy about it, but then, he really wasn't that happy about anything at that point. I can tell you that he didn't regret the choice, but there were plenty of other things he'd rather be doing.  
  
Like what?  
  
She sighed again. Will and Kate wanted to start a family. They already had a house picked out in Lincoln, Nebraska when she died.  
  
His wife's death had quite an effect on him, didn't it?  
  
Of course it did. Sarah was now talking entirely to the coffee mug. It reminded me of...when he came back from the SI War. He had this...look about him. He went through the motions, but you always got the feeling that he wasn't really _there_. Like he was sleepwalking or something. It wasn't so bad when Kate died, but...I could see it.  
  
Liam nodded. One more thing. Do you blame the Taelons at all for your brother's death?  
  
She smiled wanly. Will was the perfect detective. He had to get to the bottom of everything. I remember this story about how once on Christmas Eve, when we were kids, he stayed up all night with a flashlight to see how Santa Claus could fit down the chimney.  
  
Liam smiled.  
  
He got that from our father, I think. But I guess I missed it. She looked directly at Liam. I don't know who's responsible for Will's death, and I really don't care. Knowing that won't bring him back.  
  
Now it was Liam's turn to look down at the table. Thank you for your time, Miss Boone, he said, standing after a moment.  
  
Sarah asked. Why are you here? Now, I mean. Why are you asking all this now?  
  
Liam paused. Part of him wanted to tell her, but another part knew better. _Tell her that her brother's mind was downloaded into a Taelon machine, and that he caused the bombing that nearly killed Ni'ram? What good would that do?_ Just a little mixed-up paperwork back in Washington, he said, offering a small smile. I'm sorry to have put you through all this, ma'am.  
  
She nodded, but she seemed to be thinking about something else. Kincaid. I think Will knew a Captain Kincaid. They served together in the SI War. Was that you?  
  
For a moment, Liam considered saying no. But he was using that alias, so he should probably stick to it. Yeah. That was me.  
  
So you knew him too, didn't you?  
  
Now Liam sighed. In reality, his only memory of Boone was the flash he had had of Zo'or killing him. He had researched enough to pretend to know him for the purposes of his interview for the job of Da'an's protector. Sandoval probably wouldn't have known better. But this was Boone's sister. Besides, he didn't _want_ to fake the man's acquaintance. To do so, he felt, would dishonor Boone's memory even more than it already had been.  
  
Not very well, he said simply.


End file.
